The Laws of Familiarity
by KittyKatZorse
Summary: Sherlock/OC story. John meets Sherlock's lawyer Rebecca. The only person he's ever met that can put up with Sherlock as well as he can. But who is watching the young lawyer and willing to do anything to get to Sherlock Holmes? Set between episodes 2 & 3.
1. Chapter 1

**I've just recently submitted my other Sherlock story The Art of Silence which I was originally going to make into a Sherlock/OC story but I wanted to create a character that that could match and almost counteract his pompousness etc. **

**So I have decided to make this story a Sherlock/OC story. **

**Please let me know what you think on it and whether I should continue.**

**... **

John Watson slowly climbed the stairs towards his flat.

It was cold day and a chill had crept into his leg, causing his limp to return.

He didn't care what Sherlock had said, today the pain was _definitely_ not psychosomatic.

Grasping onto the banister, he inwardly groaned as she heard Mrs Hudson's footsteps behind him.

"Oh John, there you are," said the old woman, appearing at the foot of the stairs holding a tray laden with cups and saucers. "I was just bringing up some tea for Sherlock and his guest."

"Guest?" said John with a frown. Sherlock never had guests.

Mrs Hudson nodded and ushered him further up the staircase.

Reaching the top, John found the door wide open and Sherlock sitting at the table, his laptop open in front of him.

He didn't look up as John walked in.

"Tea, my dears," said Mrs Hudson entering the room after John and placing the tray down onto the coffee table with a flourish.

It wasn't until John glanced over to the armchair did he notice an extra figure in the room.

"John this is Rebecca Francis," said Sherlock loudly, causing John to jump. "My lawyer."

The figure looked up from a stack of papers that were perched precariously on their lap and gave John a swift smile.

Rebecca, the lawyer, was in what looked like her late twenties. She had a long twist of caramel blonde hair that fell past her shoulders and was wearing a smart blouse and pencil skirt that showed off her slender legs.

"Ah and there's me thinking this friend of yours was imaginary, Sherlock," she said, flashing a mocking smile in the dark-haired man's direction.

Sherlock scowled but said nothing, redirecting his glare towards the laptop screen.

"So _you're_ the solider then?" said Rebecca, shifting some files off the chair opposite so that John could sit down, as Mrs Hudson busied herself with pouring the tea.

"Yes," he muttered, taking a seat. "Not long got back actually."

Rebecca nodded her head, though John wasn't sure if she was actually even still listening, her eyes scrolling down the page before her.

"So how long have you worked for Sherlock?" he asked, trying to reignite the conversation.

Rebecca glanced up from her work. "Oh a few years," she muttered, crossing out something in bright red pen. "But he only comes to me when he's desperate."

She leaned in close to John. "Likes to think that he knows best when it comes to legal matters," she said in a loud, carrying whisper, causing Sherlock scoff from across the room.

"I do know best as it happens," he said in a dark voice.

Rebecca rolled her eyes before crossing out another huge paragraph. "Yeah you keep telling yourself that Sherlock and it'll be me trying to get you off when you end up in court. Again!"

John saw her cock an eyebrow at Sherlock, a cheeky grin lingering on her face.

But the Detective's face was unreadable as his eyes met with hers.

"Now it was one sugar wasn't it dear?" asked Mrs Hudson pressing a steaming mug of tea into Rebecca's hands, as she nodded her thanks to the old woman.

"And a coffee for you wasn't it Sherlock?" asked Mrs Hudson, placing his mug down onto the table beside him.

"Oh yes, I forgot. Sherlock needs his caffeine rush now that he's given up smoking. How's that going for you anyway?" asked Rebecca in a mocking tone, scrawling a note at the bottom of a page of text.

"It's fine," said Sherlock coldly, gesturing to his arm. "I have patches."

But Rebecca did not look up, not even giving him the satisfaction of a response. The smirk upon her face said it all.

John was sure he heard Sherlock let out a low growl.

The Detective obviously did not like being mocked or outwitted.

"Do I pay you to make fun of me?" Sherlock snapped, flexing the arm on which his nicotine patches lay.

John glanced up, feeling a bit defensive of Rebecca and the way in which his flatmate was treating her.

He was about to protest to the dark-haired man, when Rebecca placed a hand suddenly upon his arm, pre-empting his reaction.

"Don't worry about it, we're always like this. I find it best just to ignore him," she said with a smile, heaving up the piles of papers from her lap and stuffing them into her briefcase.

She quickly gulped down her steaming hot tea before turning to John and shaking his hand.

"It's been nice to meet you at last," she said cheerily. "The elusive flatmate."

"Likewise," said John, with a grin, stepping aside so Rebecca could pass.

"Mrs Hudson, it's been a pleasure as always," she said pecking the old woman on the cheek, before moving across the room to where Sherlock sat, staring at his screen, though his eyes were still and unmoving.

"These are for you to sign," she said placing several documents in front of him. "I'll be back tomorrow morning to check they're all in order."

The detective nodded but didn't say a word, his eyes running across the text before him.

Rebecca turned and made to leave.

"I can't sign this," said Sherlock suddenly, causing Rebecca to halt in her track and let out a long sigh.

"Why, what's wrong with it?" she said tiredly, turning back around.

Sherlock raised one of the papers and shoved it under Rebecca's nose.

"He's spelt arrogant wrong, it should have two R's," he said carefully, eyeing Rebecca as if waiting for a reaction.

She gave another lengthy sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Does it matter?" she asked.

"Of course it matters," said the detective, a slight grin appearing at the corners of his lips, "this is a binding legal document. If I'm to sign it I want it to be meticulously spell-checked."

Rebecca scowled, before snatching the paper from his grasp. "Fine," she snapped, storming towards the door. "I'll get him to email another one through, this time correctly spelt, detailing exactly how much of an arrogant idiot you really are. Two R's of course!"

"Shall we make it 10.30 then?" called Sherlock with a mischievous smile as exited the room, slamming the door behind her.

...

**Please review. **

**Should I continue?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all the reviews.**

**Sorry this is only a short chapter. More to come soon.**

**

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"So how long has she been your lawyer for?" asked John, as Sherlock closed his laptop later that evening.

"Why do you want to know?" said Sherlock getting up from his seat and cocking an eyebrow in John's direction.

"I don't know," shrugged John. "I'm just curious I guess."

"Why?" asked Sherlock stopping in his tracks.

"What?" said John a little confused. Sherlock could be odd sometimes but this conversation was really starting to take the biscuit.

"Why are you curious?" said the Detective, his eyes suddenly cold and hard.

John shook his head. "I don't know. I mean, she's a pretty girl, she works for you, I just thought you might have mentioned her."

Sherlock stared at John. "Does it matter that I didn't?"

John raised his hands in defence. "No, I just thought that maybe you and her were..."

"Were what?" snapped Sherlock.

John gulped. "Never mind..." he muttered, turning to take his empty plate into the kitchen. "So she's single then?"

"What, Rebecca?" said Sherlock following him.

"No, Mrs Hudson," said John sarcastically. "Yes, of course Rebecca, who else would I mean?"

Sherlock studied him carefully.

"So she _is _single then, Rebecca?" said John placing his dish beside the sink, ready to be washed up in the morning.

He cocked an eyebrow at Sherlock who remained blank-faced.

"Well, there is Toby..." muttered the Detective.

"Who's Toby?" asked John with a frown.

He was sure he saw Sherlock mask a grin as he opened the door to his bedroom. "That's who she lives with," said the dark haired man. "Goodnight John, sleep well."

And with that, the door was shut with a snap and John was left to ponder whether he was any match for this Toby fellow.

* * *

**Please review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to all those who have reviewed so far!**

**...**

John Watson was always on time.

It was something he had learnt from his army days.

To be prompt at all times. And he was...

Never too early and never too late. Just on time, at _all_ times.

But this was something he never expected from anyone else.

"Will you get the door?" yelled Sherlock's voice from the room downstairs.

John groaned and opened his bleary eyes staring at his alarm clock.

10.30

It was his first day off in ages. Between Sherlock's cases and his part-time work at the Doctor's surgery he was getting very little sleep and he could really do with a major lie-in.

From downstairs he could just make out the distant sound of the doorbell.

Sighing to himself he shuffled up and out from the covers of his warm and comfortable bed and rubbed his tired eyes.

"Coming," he called as the doorbell rang repeatedly, running down the stairs in nothing but a t-shirt and his boxer shorts.

He opened the front door with a flourish and stared in horror at the sight that met him.

Rebecca.

"Morning John," she said cheerily, pushing past him and stepping over the threshold without being asked.

John stared after her, his eyes widening. "Um, hi," he muttered, feeling suddenly incredibly self-conscious, tugging down his t-shirt, trying to cover all his exposed body parts.

"It's freezing out there," said Rebecca with a shudder, unravelling her scarf. "You look all cosy though. Nice for some."

She swept past John, who looked on stunned, at this woman's brusque attitude.

"Sherlock upstairs is he?" she said climbing the stairs, removing her gloves as she did so.

John gaped, before following her quickly. "Actually I don't think he's-"

But before John could finish his sentence Sherlock had appeared at the top of the staircase, standing in the open doorway to the living room.

"Ah it's you," said the dark-haired figure of Sherlock staring intensely at Rebecca.

"Yes, it's me," she said dumping her scarf and gloves into Sherlock's arms, brushing past him and waltzing into the living room where a roaring fire was burning in the grate.

"I thought you said 10.30?" asked Sherlock matter-of-factly, ignoring Rebecca's abrupt entrance and dropping her belongings onto the side-board.

Rebecca strode over to the fire and held out her hands towards it warming herself. "It _is_ 10.30," she said with a frown.

"No, it was 10.26 when you knocked on the door," said Sherlock moving further into the room, a slight smirk upon his face.

"Rebecca turned to face the Detective, glaring at him angrily. "So that's why you left me out there in the cold all that time," she said loudly. "I can't believe you sometimes. You almost give me pneumonia trying to prove a bloody point!"

She shook her head before turning back towards the fire.

John suddenly tugged the Detective into the kitchen out of earshot.

"What was all that about?" he asked with a scowl.

"What?" said Sherlock innocently.

"That. Making me go downstairs to answer to door when you were already up and dressed," said John in a whisper.

"So?" said Sherlock glancing up at Rebecca who was examining her tousled hair in the mirror above the mantelpiece.

"So, look at me Sherlock," said John angrily, gesturing to his scruffy t-shirt and novelty boxer-shorts. "Why couldn't you have answered the door to her?"

Sherlock seemed to ponder the question for a few seconds before answering. "I was busy," he muttered.

"Busy?" snarled John. "Busy doing what?"

But Sherlock didn't answer. He merely strode back into the living room and settled himself at the table near to the window.

"I have those papers for you," he said after a moment, causing Rebecca to turn around and cock an eyebrow in his direction.

"Oh, haven't found any more in discrepancies then have you?" she asked, moving over to where the detective sat, his arms crossed across his chest.

"A few, but I'm willing to overlook them," he said, his eyes lingering upon her face as he passed her the documents.

Rebecca rolled her eyes, before settling into the chair opposite him and studying the signatures on each page.

"Well this all seems to be in order," she said shuffling the papers into a neat pile.

"I have the Forthworth clause for you to sign," she said leaning back in her chair, absent-mindedly mimicking Sherlock's pose. "Spelt correctly this time. He emailed it to me first thing this morning."

She handed him the fresh document, which he quickly glanced over before scrawling his signature at the bottom.

"Brilliant," she said once he had finished, pushing the paperwork back into her briefcase. "I'll send them on later today."

She made to get up from her chair but John suddenly reappeared in the doorway, this time fully-dressed in jeans and a dark shirt, a strong smell of aftershave lingering in the air. "You fancy some tea Rebecca?" he asked, clapping his hands together.

"Uh yeah, that'd be great thanks," she said with a smirk, which she quickly hid behind her hand.

But she wasn't quick enough for Sherlock not to catch it and a small flicker of a grin twitched at his own lips.

"I'll have a coffee," he shouted, leaning forwards and resting his chin upon entwined fingers.

"I wasn't asking you," came John's quick reply from the kitchen, but nonetheless, a few minutes later he had reappeared with three steaming mugs of liquid.

Rebecca thanked him as he placed down a mug in front of her, taking a seat at the end of the table.

"So Sherlock," she said, tracing a scratch of the table with her finger, "got any cases on at the moment?"

The Detective leaned back in his chair taking in Rebecca's every movement. "I always have cases to crack," he muttered with a growl. "I'm assuming there's an ulterior motive behind this question?"

"Well," she said with a shrug, taking a sip of her tea," you know that I like to keep a close eye on what you're doing."

"Well it's unlikely he's ever going to end up in jail is it?" laughed John.

But his smile soon diminished as he noticed that both Sherlock and Rebecca were staring at each other a little uncomfortably.

"What? _You've_ been to-"

"It was a long time ago John," said Sherlock quickly, giving Rebecca a warning look.

But his lawyer merely smiled, obviously knowing how much she could get under Sherlock's skin.

John gaped, before shaking his head incredulously.

Sherlock, in jail...

He wasn't even sure he could comprehend such a thing.

"What for?" he stuttered, "What exactly did you do to end up in jail Sherlock?" asked John, flabbergasted.

Sherlock grimaced. "There was a...misunderstanding," he said carefully avoiding John's eye.

John looked towards Rebecca for an explanation but she merely grinned at the Detective and got up from her seat.

"I'd best be going," she said cheerily, draining her cup. "Thanks for the tea, John."

John stood up quickly as Rebecca moved over to the side table, slipping on her coat and grasping her briefcase.

But Sherlock remained seated, his surly demeanour unflinching, his eyes however were following Rebecca's very movement.

John quickly stood himself and moved over to Rebecca, hoping to be out of Sherlock's earshot.

"So," he said conversationally, "you don't fancy going for a coffee sometime do you?"

Rebecca looked up at him suddenly, her eyes widening.

"I...um..." she said blushing and glancing over at Sherlock, "I'm actually pretty busy, Toby's sick so-"

"Toby's your boyfriend then?" said John nodding. "Sorry I should have realised..."

Rebecca smirked, flinging her scarf around her neck with a flourish and heading for the door. "No. Toby's my dog," she said matter-of-factly. "Basset-hound, lovely demeanour."

She exited into the stairwell, and glanced back at the two men, smiling.

"Nice to see you again John," she called in a sing-song voice, making her way down the stairs. "And Sherlock, I'll be in touch sometime in the week. I'll give you a call or something."

"Make it a text!" he called after her, as the front door slammed shut.

...

**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**For those of you who were wondering I kind of stole Toby the dog from the Disney movie Basil the Great Mouse Detective.**

**Thanks so much to Eleanor B-F, Old Gregg93, almightyswot, Helen, PoisonLily, OhTex, and RockChick139 for the reviewing the last chapter. It means a lot to me...**

**Hope you enjoy this one...sorry it's only short.**

**...**

"Toby's her dog!" said John incredulously, turning to Sherlock.

The Detective shrugged, getting up hastily from his seat grabbing something from the sideboard. "Did I say anything on the contrary?"

John pondered this thought for a moment. This was true, he hadn't said that Toby was Rebecca's boyfriend.

"No, but you implied it!" he yelled at the Detective as he snatched up his coat and flounced out of the room saying nothing.

John sighed as he heard the front door slam.

He couldn't be bothered to go after the grumpy Holmes this time. He had pushed him too far and made him too look like an idiot in front of Rebecca.

John slumped down onto the sofa.

His flatmate sure was odd sometimes.

...

Rebecca buried her chin into her scarf as she walked along the icy pavement.

A cold winter wind was blowing and she cursed herself for not wearing thicker tights, especially on a day like today.

She had come all the way across town for Sherlock Holmes to sign some papers. All the way to Bakers Street in this weather.

She had known the detective for four years. Four long years.

She had been the only lawyer stupid enough to take him on as client, or at least this is what she kept telling herself. Every time he ended up in court on some baffling case she swore that it would be the last, but for some reason she just couldn't let Sherlock Holmes go...

He was one of her best paying clients and something about him intrigued her. Of course he was pompous and egotistical but she loved the banter she shared with him. The arguments.

But she also loved the times where she could just sit with him, doing paperwork in perfect silence, neither caring for the other's conversation.

Not that she liked Sherlock Holmes.

He wasn't even good looking.

Or friendly for that matter...

She dove into her pockets for her gloves, her fingers tingling in the cold weather, but they weren't there.

Ugh, she'd left them back at the flat.

She turned to go back but before she could even take a step she walked straight into-

"Sherlock," she said irritably, gazing up at the tall dark-haired man.

He stated back at her, his expression unreadable. "Your gloves," he said simply, handing them to her.

Rebecca faltered. Usually this man would go out of his way to annoy her, but here he was with this first kind-ish gesture in four years.

"T-Thank you," she mumbled pulling them onto her hands clumsily, gazing up at him.

His face was soft and for once he looked almost shy.

"Thought you might get cold," he muttered gazing around, a bored look lingering on his features.

Rebecca cocked her head at him. This was a first. Sherlock being...pleasant.

"Well I was just on my way back to fetch them," she said with a sniff. "But then again. You'd probably have left me out in the cold because I didn't call at the right time."

As soon as Rebecca had finished the sentence she knew she had pushed him too far. Their old banter was back, causing his demeanour to change slightly.

His brow furrowed, his jaw tensed and his body became stiff and straight. Much more like the Sherlock she was used to.

"I'd best be off," he said coldly, turning on his heel and marching back down the street.

Rebecca sighed and watched him go.

She wanted to call out to him but thought better of it.

She stuffed her hands into her pockets before turning and walking up towards the bustling high street.

But what the young lawyer didn't notice was a tall figure following her down the road, soon to be concealed within the crowds.

...

**Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Oh gosh I hope everyone enjoyed Sherlock tonight? Can't believe it was the last one. Don't worry there are no spoilers here. NO SPOILERS!**

**Hope you are enjoying the story. I'm just starting to get into it.**

**Thanks so much to PoisonLily, Cozibizzle, almightyswot, Firefly Princess x, JamesAndCaitlinKirk34, Vanidot, Eleanor B-F, Old Gregg93, OhTex, Old Gregg93, Moobug and Laudine for reviewing!**

**...**

Rebecca lifted the phone to her ear. "What is it Sherlock," she sighed, running a hand across her tired eyes.

"I need you," came the familiar voice of Sherlock Holmes down the receiver.

Rebecca rolled her eyes, tucking the mobile between her ear and shoulder and crouched down on her kitchen floor.

"Yeah I got your texts, but I'm busy Sherlock," she said firmly, beginning to sweep up the broken glass that was strewn across her tiny kitchen. "Whatever kind of mess you're in, it's going to have to wait okay."

There was a pause, before Sherlock spoke again. "Why? What's wrong?" he asked in a bored tone, that to some might have been mistaken for concern.

"Oh nothing," she snapped, too stressed out and tired as it was.

There was another pause from Sherlock's end.

"I need you to meet me outside St Bartholomew's Hospital at four o'clock," he uttered simply as Rebecca stopped in her sweeping.

"I told you Sherlock, I'm busy," she said shaking her head, emotions running high within her. She closed her eyes as a lone tear poured down her cheek.

"And I told you, I need you," said the voice of the detective.

And before Rebecca could even utter another word, Sherlock Holmes had hung up.

...

John Watson glanced up at the huge hospital that loomed before before him as the cab came to a halt.

"Were stopping at St Barts?" he asked Sherlock as his flatmate paid the driver and hopped out.

"Yes," said Sherlock clapping his gloved hands together with glee. "Tracy Vine died last night-"

"Tracy Vine?" said John glancing up at the detective, his eyes wide. "As in the singer?"

Sherlock looked at him bored. "The very same."

John stared up at him incredulously. "And we're going to look at her, why?"

"Because her son Frederic has hired me. He doesn't trust her new husband-"

"What? David Doon, the footballer? But they only got married last month, it was in all the papers," said John shaking his head.

"Ah yes but Freddy wasn't not too keen on his mother having a husband the same age as he is. Thinks perhaps her death wasn't an accident," said Sherlock with a devilish smile.

John frowned. "Yeah but she's pretty high profile, aren't you gonna' need a lawyer present to see the body?"

Sherlock suddenly glanced over as a cab pulled up beside them. "Yes, and here she is now."

John looked up to see Rebecca stepping out of the taxi, in her usual pencil skirt, blouse and black raincoat.

But it didn't take Sherlock Holmes to deduce that something was wrong.

Her eyes were red and puffy, barely disguised behind a slick of mascara.

"Hi," she said curtly, nodding at the two men, though avoiding their gaze.

"Are you okay?" asked John cocking his head at her, whilst Sherlock remained silent.

"No," sighed Rebecca. "I've had the worst morning ever. Woke up to find that the electricity had gone off, so had to flip the fuse and went into my kitchen only to find that someone had bloody broken in."

"Really are you okay? Did they take anything?" asked John placing a gentle hand on the lawyers shoulder.

"Yeah I'm fine," she muttered, "but no nothing was stolen thankfully. To be honest I haven't got much to steal, it looks like they just broke the back door, the glass was everywhere. Why the noise didn't wake me up is anyone's guess."

John shook his head. "Well at least your okay," he said giving Rebecca's shoulder a squeeze as Sherlock looked on quietly.

"So," said Rebecca after a moment. "Why did you want me here Sherlock? What was so important?"

"Tracy Vine," said Sherlock, as Rebecca took on the same reaction as John had.

"Oh gosh, I read about that in this morning's paper. Drowned didn't she? In her pool. Husband dragged her out, terrible business," said Rebecca in a gossipy tone.

"Indeed," said Sherlock boredly. "Well, shall we."

And with that Sherlock ushered Rebecca and John inside, into the foyer of St Bartholomew's Hospital."

...

Sherlock swept out of the lifts, Rebecca and John following in his wake.

Rebecca kept tight to the detective's heels.

They were at basement level. The morgue. Just the thought of it gave her the shivers.

Suddenly Sherlock stopped abruptly, with no warning, causing Rebecca to bowl into him.

"Sorry," she mumbled, as he swung around to stare at her, "but will you give me some warning next time."

Sherlock said nothing and instead slipped inside a door to their left, holding it open for Rebecca and John to step inside.

"Sherlock," said a familiar voice.

Rebecca looked up to see Inspector Lestrade walking towards them, a whole group of police officers behind him, including Sally Donovan and a mousey woman in a white coat that Rebecca didn't recognise.

"Ah Miss Francis," said Lestrade moving forwards to shake her hand. "Sherlock didn't tell us that you'd be coming too."

Rebecca eyed the Inspector a little uneasily. The pair had met several times on Sherlock's cases in the past. But in this instance she had no more of an idea why she was here than Lestrade did.

"You know that we provide lawyers for you Sherlock, you dint need to bring your own," came a sneering voice from the back of the room.

Anderson.

Rebecca rolled her eyes.

Sherlock was about to answer, but Rebecca cut across him with a quick retort.

"Yes, but at least I'm not as corrupt as the lawyer's you provide," she said flashing her eyes dangerously at the forensics officer. "Besides, it's nice to have some style don't you think Sherlock?"

Sherlock stared at her for a moment, a grin forming at his lips. Rebecca looked back at him, holding back a laugh.

"Anyway," said Lestrade, turning to the detective as Sally Donovan rolled her eyes. "You know why we're here don't you?"

"Tracy Vine," said Sherlock, his face becoming serious once again as he turned to face Lestrade.

"Yeah," said the Inspector, cocking a head to the window behind him that showed another room, through which a body bag was visible on a gurney.

Rebecca gulped.

"Tracy Vine drowned last night in her pool. According to her husband she had gone for a swim at about 7 o'clock and when he went to check on her half an hour later he found her floating face down. He managed to drag her out of there and tried to give her mouth to mouth but she couldn't be resuscitated," said Lestrade shaking his head.

"From the looks of it he was telling the truth," said Anderson stiffly. "We estimated the time of death to be about 7.20 and yes before you ask, her death was most certainly caused by drowning. Most likely accidental."

"Most likely?" scoffed John. "Her son doesn't think so."

"Yes, but we've all read about him in the papers haven't we, trying to rise on his mothers success for years-" said Donovan but Lestrade cut across her crossly.

"Alright that's enough, this isn't Connie Prince's gossip column, this is a possible murder investigation," shouted the Inspector. "So Sherlock, go on do you stuff."

Sherlock nodded. "Gladly," he muttered scowling at Donovan and Anderson before pressing a hand to the small of Rebecca's back, ushering her into the next room.

John made to follow but Lestrade stuck out his hand, stopping the doctor in his path.

"No, I'm sorry John but I can't let you go in there, she's a high profile celebrity, only Sherlock and his lawyer can go in." Said the Inspector shaking his head.

John sighed as Rebecca turned to look at him giving him an apologetic look before the door was slammed shut behind them.

...

**I will be sure to update soon. **

**Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks so much to all those who reviewed the last chapter... ILoveHLaurie, Firefly Princess x, paradox-xo, almightyswot, Old Gregg93, PoisonLily, Look-Me-Up, OhTex, Laudine and Eleanor B-F.**

**I hope you all like this chapter.**

**Please let me know what you think of it.**

...

Rebecca stood back as Sherlock waltzed over to the body bag in the centre of the pristinely white room.

"Hello," came a sudden voice, from behind them causing Rebecca to almost jump out of her skin.

She turned around to see the mousey-woman enter quietly through the door behind them.

"Ah Molly," said Sherlock without glancing up, "if you could please do the honours."

The woman named Molly smiled widely and approached Sherlock and the gurney, zipping open the body bag to reveal the face of a woman Rebecca knew quite well.

Rebecca stepped forwards, more out of curiosity than anything else.

She had seen this woman a thousand times on various TV shows and magazines.

Her usual bright orange skin was now a paler she of grey but apart from that she looked exactly the same. Her bleach blonde hair, her highly arched eyebrows, her botoxed features...

Rebecca shuddered, making to take a step back but Sherlock had suddenly whipped around her encircling the table possessively. She felt his hand upon her lower back.

"Are you okay?" he whispered in a low voice, his eyes never leaving the body.

Rebecca trembled. "Yeah I'm fine," she lied. "This is just so...weird."

Molly's eyes widened at the contact between the pair as she watched them.

Feeling uncomfortable, Rebecca pulled away, marching over to the far wall. She crossed her arms across her chest and looked on, feeling a little queasy.

Why had Sherlock brought her here? Like Anderson had said, there were plenty of police departmental lawyers Sherlock could have chosen. So why her?

She took in a sharp breath and exhaled deeply as the woman named Molly ambled over to her.

"I don't think we've met," said the woman with a smile. "My name's Molly Hooper."

"Rebecca," said the lawyer catching her breath, "Rebecca Francis, I'm Sherlock's lawyer."

"Oh," said the woman with blushing. "so the two of you aren't-"

"No," said Rebecca, perhaps quicker than she should have. She was sure she saw Sherlock momentarily pause in what he was doing.

"No, I'm just his lawyer," she muttered.

"Oh," said Molly, beaming, flouncing back over to Sherlock with a spring in her step.

Rebecca couldn't help but grin.

"Found anything?" muttered Molly, standing on her tip toes at the detective's side.

Sherlock stood back for a moment and turned to the mousey-haired girl. "Molly could you give us a moment," he said cocking his head back to Rebecca.

"U-Um sure," said Molly, her smile faltering. "I'll just leave you to it."

And with that Molly exited the door to Rebecca's left, giving Sherlock a small goodbye wave as she did so.

Rebecca suddenly stepped forwards, her teeth gritted. "Why did she need to leave? This place gives me the creeps as it is let alone when it's just you and me in here..." she hissed.

Sherlock turned to her arching an eyebrow. "Because I needed some peace and quiet so that I could think. Molly was being too.." he threw his hands in the air, grasping for the word.

"Infatuated?" offered Rebecca, clutching her arms around herself.

Sherlock stared at the young lawyer for a moment, a bewildered look crossing his features.

"Oh don't act like you hadn't noticed," grinned Rebecca, biting her lip. "I bet you've been toying with her affections for months, just so you can get in here whenever you desire."

She pointed around before shuddering at the sheer pristine cleanliness of it all.

Sherlock shrugged and turned back to Tracy's pale body.

"So why did you bring me anyway?" asked Rebecca, lowering her chin and observing Sherlock at work. "Like Anderson said, there are plenty of other lawyers you could have chosen."

Sherlock glanced at her over his shoulder, his lips pursed together.

"So why me Sherlock?" she pressed, chewing her lip as their eyes met.

The detective raised his head and turned to face the young lawyer, leaning against the gurney behind him. He was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke, his words carefully chosen.

"Because you're clever," he said simply. "Cleverer than John, or Lestrade or any of those other lawyers..."

Rebecca narrowed her eyes, searching for the lie on Sherlock's face.

"That's not true," she muttered quietly.

But Sherlock shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets and cocking his head towards the body.

"Come on, tell me what you see?" he said in a low voice, a glint of something in his eye.

Rebecca visibly gulped and cautiously stepped towards the gurney, Sherlock's eyes upon her the whole time. Her eyes came to rest upon Tracy Vine's face.

She studied the woman for a moment. The face she had seen on TV more times than she could imagine. Starring in one reality show after the next.

"Um I d-don't-" she began to stutter, but Sherlock cut across her.

"Try," he uttered in a light commanding tone.

Rebecca glanced at him uneasily, before slowly encircling the body just as Sherlock had previously done.

"Well...she's tanned," mumbled Rebecca, glancing over the body. "Too many sun beds and holidays paid for by national newspapers no doubt."

She slowly paced around the gurney stopping at Tracy's feet. "She's shorter than I would have thought," mused the lawyer. "And she is most definitely _not_ a size ten!"

She looked up at Sherlock embarrassedly, but the detective didn't react.

Rebecca blushed before moving up to pause at Tracy's shoulder, facing Sherlock who was stood on the opposite side of the gurney.

She cocked her head to the side as her eyes lingered on Tracy's face.

"I don't know," she sighed shaking her head. "She's had too much botox, plucks her eyebrows too much, had her hair dyed sometime in the last few days..."

"What?" said Sherlock suddenly, as Rebecca looked up a little shocked.

"I, er-"

"What you said, about her hair," said Sherlock moving around to Rebecca and grasping her upper arms tightly. "How do you know it was dyed within the last few days?"

Rebecca shook her head, a little flustered at Sherlock's sudden contact more than anything. "I don't know," she whispered. "Well I mean, it's quiet brassy, it looks like she can't have washed it more than once since she's dyed it."

Sherlock pulled away from Rebecca suddenly leaning over the head of Tracy Vine.

"Keep going," he commanded in a low voice. "Her hair, tell me more about her hair."

"I, um," started Rebecca stepping forwards until she was level with the detective. "Well it's blonde. Bleached. Her real hair is dark brown, like her eyebrows. So she must bleach it quite regularly...um...it's quite odd actually..."

"What is?" said Sherlock turning to look at her, his face close to hers.

Rebecca shrugged. "Well I used to bleach my hair..."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at her.

"I was young okay," she said rolling her eyes. "But, well the thing is, that I always avoided going for a swim after I'd had it done. My friend once had a reaction to the chlorine and it turned her hair green."

"Green?" said Sherlock, his eyes black.

"Yeah, green, some say it's the chlorine in the pool but others say it's the copper in the filtration pipes, either way swimming is not a good idea when you've just had your hair bleached," said Rebecca with a frown.

Sherlock quickly bent down to examine Tracy's hair. "There's no discolouration," he said in a low voice. "How long does it take?"

Rebecca shrugged. "Well, my friend was only in there 10 minutes and her hair turned green. I guess that's all it takes."

Sherlock suddenly bent down until she was level with Tracy's hair and inhaled deeply.

Rebecca stared at him wide eyed. "W-What are you doing?"

"Deducting," said Sherlock seriously. "And I think I've just solved the case."

"What?" said Rebecca, grasping his arm tightly causing the detective swung around to look at her. "How?"

"Her hair. You said it yourself, if it had been in the water for more than ten minutes there would have been at least a little discolouration, but the hair, it doesn't even small of chlorine. When a person comes out of a pool, chlorine from the water lingers on the body, and especially in the hair, drying it out and so forth, but her hair is clean..."

"But they said that she drowned," said Rebecca tilting her head.

"She did drown, Anderson wasn't wrong. But she didn't drown in the pool," said Sherlock who began to pace.

"Where then?" asked Rebecca her eyes widening.

"The bath," said the detective bluntly. "Her head was pushed under the water and held there, judging from the tears in her hair follicles at the back."

"How did she end up in the pool then?"

"Most likely dragged there and splashed with pool water to make it look like she'd been for a swim. But they missed her hair."

"But she had a bathing costume on?" said Rebecca incredulously. "Don't tell me she wore a bikini in the bath."

"No but she wore one on her sunbed," said Sherlock with a hint of glee in his voice. "You said it yourself that she looked tanned. She has some redness on her skin that suggests she'd been on a sunbed sometime within the last 24 hours, most likely just before her beloved son ran her a nice relaxing bath."

"Her son!" said Rebecca loudly, her voice echoing throughout the spacious room. "But he's the one who hired you."

"For once Donavan was right, he has been trying to get a rise from his mother's success for years and framing his new step-father for his mother's murder was the only way to make sure he received the full inheritance he felt that he was entitled to," said Sherlock, moving over to the door, giving Rebecca a smile as he did so.

She shook her head, unable to believe her ears.

He had figured it out just like that.

"Shall we," said the detective, his eyes glowing, as he held open the door for her.

...

"Well done," said John, as he and Rebecca exited out onto the bust street. "Looks like you helped him solve the case."

"Barely," said Rebecca with a smile. "He would have figured it out on his own sooner or later."

The pair's conversation was cut short as Sherlock joined them on the pavement a second later.

"Well I'd best be off," said Rebecca, turning up her collar against the cold winter wind as she checked her watch.

"Where are you going?" asked Sherlock suddenly, his hardened demeanour faltering.

"I'm going for drinks with some old girl-friends from school," she said gazing up at the detective.

Sherlock looked a little affronted. "I assumed you would be coming back to the flat to draw up the case?"

Rebecca chewed her lip. "Erm, I'm sorry, can we make it tomorrow instead?"

Sherlock frowned darkly. "I suppose," he said snappily, stepping forwards and opening the door of a cab that just pulled up.

And without even a goodbye or a backwards glance, Sherlock had stepped inside, leaving the door open for John to follow.

"Um see you tomorrow then," said John, giving Rebecca an awkward handshake, before stepping inside the black cab.

The door slammed behind him.

"Yeah see you," said Rebecca, catching the eye of the gloomy looking Sherlock Holmes as the taxi pulled away.

...

**I hope that was okay. **

**Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks so much to algie888, BlahBlah112, Laudine, paradox-xo, OhTex, ILoveHLaurie, izzie22, Are You Dizzy Yet, almightyswot, Old Gregg93, Rhea Bleu, Yugicanbesexy, WordsWrittenByHeart and PoisonLily for reviewing.**

**Im so glad that you guys are still enjoying this story...**

**Please let me know what you think of this chapter and...**

**...**

Sherlock lay awake.

It was 3am, and his bedroom windows were wide open letting the cold winter wind waft through.

He let out a long breath as he lay there staring up at ceiling, his hands clasped over his stomach.

He had thought about going to fetch his violin but that required effort, and effort was something the detective did not possess at this moment in time.

To say that he was feeling lethargic was an understatement. He had no jobs on, no cases, nothing.

He was bored...

He closed his eyes and sighed, willing for sleep to wash over him finally.

The sounds of London growing more and more distant...

_Beep._

Sherlock's eyes flicked open as his phone, situated on his bedside table, vibrated loudly across the hard wood surface.

He sat up straight, reaching for his mobile and pressed it to his ear.

"Sherlock Holmes," he uttered in a low, tired voice.

A high pitched giggle came down the line.

"Sherlock Holmes," came a drunken voice, stressing the detectives' name. "This is Rebecca Francis."

Sherlock couldn't help but grin as he heard Rebecca elongate her syllables, in an attempt to sound sober.

"Who are you on the phone to?" came a second voice from Rebecca's end.

"Shhhhhh," said Rebecca in a loud whisper. "It's Sherlock..."

"Oooh who's Sherlock? Your boyfriend?" came a screechy voice.

"Shhhhhh," repeated Rebecca with a giggle, before coughing and addressing the detective once again. "Mr Holmes, how are you this evening?"

Another giggle as Sherlock bit his lip.

"I'm well, Miss Francis, I take it you're enjoying your night out with old school friends?" he said in a deep tone.

"Yes, I am actually," she slurred as her friends cackled in the background and she shushed them once again.

"Is there a reason for you phoning at this hour?" asked the detective, leaning back against his headboard.

"Um yes," she said, in a forced voice, "I just wanted to inform you Mr Holmes that I may be a little late for our meeting tomorrow."

"Oh yes, Miss Francis and why might that be?" he said his lips curving up into a smile.

"Um," muttered Rebecca, "I have another appointment."

From down the line came another fit of giggles.

"Well, Sherlock it has been a pleasure talking to you," came Rebecca's tipsy voice. "And now I must say Au Revoir."

Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes.

"Goodbye Rebecca," he said in a low voice, as her friends yelled incomprehensible things down the line.

He heard Rebecca shush them quickly.

"Bye Sherlock Holmes," she said with a laugh before hanging up.

Sherlock shook his head and stared at the phone for a moment, before throwing it down onto the table beside him and drifting off into a comfortable sleep.

...

It was 11.20.

John was stood in the kitchen, reading the morning paper, waiting for the kettle to boil when he heard the doorbell ring.

"I'll get it," called the shrill voice of Mrs Hudson from downstairs.

John put down his paper, and glanced into the living room where Sherlock was sitting, fully dressed in his usual smart suit, plucking at the strings of his violin.

"Must be Rebecca," mused John hearing Mrs Hudson greeting someone at the door. He glanced at his watch. "She's running a bit late isn't she?"

He gazed over at Sherlock who didn't reply, merely staring out blankly into the space before him.

John rolled his eyes and strolled into the kitchen just as Rebecca waltzed into the room, looking a little worse for wear.

Her caramel blonde hair was hanging loose on her shoulders. Heavy bags lay under her eyes and her skin had a pale, almost green tinge to it.

"Rebecca, I've just boiled the kettle, do you want a cuppa?" asked John, as she glanced up at him through squinted eyes.

"Um yeah," that would be great, thanks," she croaked, throwing herself down into the armchair opposite Sherlock and holding her head in her hands.

"Good night was it?" said John, with a pitying grin.

"Ugh, yeah from what I can remember," she muttered rubbing her temples with her fingertips as Sherlock stared at her from the corner of his eye.

"Had a lot to drink then?" chuckled John, fetching the milk from the fridge.

But before Rebecca had opened her mouth to answer, a loud, high pitched squeaking filled the room.

John glanced up to see Sherlock playing a screeching tune on his violin.

He shook his head at the detective who, it seemed was taking great pleasure in watching Rebecca flinch after every note.

"Will you stop that!" shouted Rebecca loudly, her eyes flashing angrily in Sherlock's direction. "Look I'm sorry I'm late, okay. I know I should have rung you...but there's no need for you to torture me like this!"

She stood up quickly when Sherlock refused to relent with his playing and tugged the bow from his hand with a flourish, flinging it across the room where it landed on the couch with a bounce.

Sherlock gave his lawyer an innocent look before placing the violin down onto his lap.

"As a matter of fact," he said quietly, as John entered the room with their tea. "You did tell me you were going to be late."

Rebecca frowned. "What? When?" she said thanking John and lifting the steaming cup of liquid to her lips.

"You called last night and we had a very informative little chat," said Sherlock, his eyes glinting.

Rebecca looked up, spitting tea all over herself in a less than lady-like fashion.

"I did what?" she cried her eyes widening in a look of horror.

Sherlock nodded, sipping at his own cup, but John was sure that behind the teacup the detective was smiling devilishly.

"Yes," he muttered. "You felt the need to call at 3am and let me know that you had, _ahem_, another appointment this morning, so you would be late."

Rebecca blushed a rosy red and glanced away from Sherlock avoiding his eye.

"Yes, well I, er,...needed to call the electricity company. The meter seems to be broken and it's going through electricity faster than I can possibly be using it," she said glancing at John in an attempt to change the subject.

"Why what's wrong with it?" John asked with a frown.

Rebecca shrugged, still avoiding Sherlock's eye. "I don't know, it's since I flipped the fuse yesterday morning. The meter read 06200 then, and now...well...oh I don't know..." she said with a sigh. "It doesn't matter anyway. Let's just get on with those case papers, before this hangover really kicks in shall we."

John chuckled sipping at his tea and glancing over at Sherlock whose eyes were glued to Rebecca.

"Shall we?" she said nodding towards the kitchen table, as she and the detective got to their feet and began their paperwork.

...

The sky had grown dark by the time Rebecca finally flipped.

"Are you going to help my do this or are you just going to play that damn violin for the rest of the evening Sherlock?" said the irritated lawyer tapping her pen on the documents that were stretched out across the table before her.

But Sherlock didn't answer her, he merely continued playing a dull tune upon his instrument.

"I get that this is taking a long time but I can't do it without your help," she snapped, shaking her head. "These papers need to be filed."

"Ugh, dull," he muttered his eyes never leaving the violin.

Rebecca growled. "Fine," she said getting to her feet and stuffing the papers into her briefcase. "I'll be back in the morning to do the rest, but I swear if you're still in this childish mood..."

Sherlock threw her a dark look as she snapped her case shut and pulled on her coat.

"I'll be back at 10.30 tomorrow, so you better have those papers signed," she yelled as she exited the room with a flourish and stormed down the stairs.

Sherlock stopped playing as he heard the front door slam.

He quickly got to his feet and pounced towards the window, pulling back the yellowing net curtains. He stared out across the street and at Rebecca who was crossing the road, her face set into a deep frown.

He turned away from the window with a sigh, rubbing his face with his hand before flopping back down onto the couch.

If he'd have watched a little longer he would have notice a dark-figure step out of the shadows and follow Rebecca down the end of Baker Street and around the corner out of sight.

...

**Please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm so excited right now I can't tell you! I got a job in the National Gallery in London! It was seen in the episode 'The Blind Banker' when Watson and Sherlock are seen climbing the steps towards it. (But obviously that's not the only reason I wanted the job. Ha!)**

**Anyway enough about me. I'm glad you guys are still enjoying this story.**

**Thanks so much to MegElemental, Totopup, almightyswot, PoisonLily, WordsWrittenByHeart, Moobug, algie888, Yugicanbesexy, StixieMarie, Laudine, happyphantom1, ILoveHLaurie, curlycue2102, xxkissesandcuddlesxx, Rhea Bleu, OhTex and paradox-xo for reviewing the last chapter!**

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Rebecca rang the doorbell as she paced the pavement, phone clutched to her ear.

They had put her on hold _again._

The door swung open to reveal Mrs Hudson in a green piny. Rebecca flashed her a smile as the old woman held the door open for Rebecca to pass through.

Walking up the stairs, a sudden voice appeared at the end of the line.

"Hello London Electricity Providers, how can I help?"

Rebecca reached Sherlock and John's living room door to find it open. They both gave her a glance as she appeared but she held on, pacing the corridor continuing with her phone call.

"Hi, my names Rebecca Francis, I talked to one of your advisors earlier on the phone, about a problem with my meter," she said rolling her eyes in John's direction as he smiled.

"Oh yes and what seems to be the problem," came the voice from the other end.

Rebecca leaned up against the doorframe, feeling Sherlock's eyes upon her.

"Well, I took the reading yesterday morning at 9am and it read..." she held up a slip of paper to her face, with scribbled pieces of writing on it, "03559, and this morning I checked it at around the same time and the bloody thing now says 01202."

The voice at the other end suddenly sounded uneasy. "Well Rebecca, I'm just checking your records here on our database and everything seems to be in order."

Rebecca stamped her foot, causing the two men to look up from the living room. She gave them an apologetic look before continuing with her rant. "Well something's wrong," she said angrily. "There is no way I'm using that much electricity per day!"

There was a sudden silence. "Um, give me a moment Miss Francis, I'm just going to put you on hold-"

"No wait, don't-"

But before Rebecca could finish her sentence a lulling music came pouring down the receiver.

She let out a roar and hung up the phone, before storming into the living room.

"Bloody people!" she cried flailing her arms in the air as Sherlock looked up at her from over his newspaper.

"Still having problems with your meter?" asked John with a pitying smile.

Rebecca shook her head and flung herself down into an armchair opposite the doctor. "I just don't understand it, the machine is going haywire..." she said rubbing her tired eyes with her hand. "All since that bloody break in!"

She winced suddenly pinching the bridge of her nose.

"And now to top it all off I have a pounding headache!" she said with a groan. "Have you got any aspirin?"

John nodded. "There's some in the bathroom cabinet. You want me to fetch you some?"

But Rebecca heaved herself from her seat. "No, it's okay, I'll go," she said stalking weakly into Holmes and Watson's bathroom.

She fumbled around in the sparse cabinet and finally found a yellow packet of painkillers. She popped two into her mouth and walked back into the living room.

"I should take those out of your wages," uttered Sherlock sarcastically over his newspaper.

"Ha, ha," said Rebecca rolling her eyes. "Don't even start with me today Sherlock I'm really not in the mood."

Sherlock cocked an eye in Rebecca's direction and saw the serious look on her face.

"Well I have those papers for you," he said nonchalantly. "All signed as you asked."

"Good," said Rebecca sitting back down. "The last thing I needed today was one of your mood swings, so thanks for being so compliant...for once."

Sherlock scowled at her before pulling the newspaper up, his face hidden behind it.

"I'll post them off today," she said placing the papers into a folder and slipping them into her briefcase. "So is that everything? Nothing else you need me to look over..."

"No. Nothing," said Sherlock gloomily from behind his broadsheet.

"Oh," said Rebecca a little startled. "Well...that's good."

Sherlock usually went out of his way to find even the most menial tasks for Rebecca to do. When she thought she was almost done, the detective would usually spring another case on her causing her to have to work on an extra hour or two. He knew how much it got to her. How much it irritated her.

But today, she wasn't expecting _this_.

"Well I guess I'll be off then..." she said, almost half-expecting a last minute response from Sherlock. But it never came.

Instead it was John that stepped in front of her on her way out of the door.

"Um, do you fancy some lunch? There's a really nice Chinese around the corner. Just opened up," said the Doctor quickly.

Rebecca stepped back. Was John asking her out? Again?

"I, er..."

"I'm starving!" said Sherlock suddenly getting to his feet, much to Rebecca's surprise. "Chinese it is."

John clenched his jaw. "Actually Sherlock, I wasn't inviting you," he hissed, but the detective wasn't listening.

Rebecca bit back a grin. At least this way she wouldn't have to let John down gently. One awkward conversation avoided.

"Yeah, sounds good," she said with a smile, following the looming figure of Sherlock out of the door as John gaped after them.

...

An hour later John, Sherlock and Rebecca were all sat at a table in the local Chinese restaurant, their empty plates before them.

John wiped his mouth and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach. "Oh that was good," he said letting out a puff.

"Mmm yeah it was nice, good recommendation John," smiled Rebecca taking a sip of her mineral water.

Sherlock who was sat opposite Rebecca had barely said a word, merely content with listening to his friends' conversation and staring out of the window beside him, watching the world go by.

So it caused the pair to jump when he finally piped up.

"How's Toby?" he said in a low voice.

Rebecca frowned. "Toby? He's fine. Why?"

"Didn't you say he was sick?" said John peering at her curiously.

Rebecca's eyes widened.

She had completely forgotten about the lie she had told to John to get out of the previous date he had asked her on.

She glanced up at Sherlock who was smiling knowingly.

He knew she was lying and he was taunting her with it. Sometime she hated his deducting skills.

"Um...yeah he's fine now. Just a cold," she muttered, staring down, desperately thinking of a way to change the subject. "Fortune cookies!"

Both Sherlock and John stared at her wide-eyed.

"I mean... we still have our fortune cookies," she said grasping for her own wrapped cookies, which lay on the centre of the table near to her glass."We should open them."

Sherlock picked his up and eyed it.

"Don't even think about it," said Rebecca warningly pointing a finger at him, knowing he was trying to predict the cookies reading.

Sherlock grumbled before tearing off the foil.

John snapped open his and read. " '_Common sense is instinct, and enough of it is genius.' _You know, I kind of like that," he said with a smile.

Rebecca grinned.

"What about yours?" she said nodding towards the detective, who snapped open his own treat.

He stared at the prediction for a few moments before reading. " '_Good luck is the result of good planning .'_ Ugh, Dull."

Rebecca rolled her eyes before snapping open her own cookie eagerly. She unfurled the tiny slip of paper and read.

"_Your word is not law, the clock is."_

She frowned and skimmed the words once again.

She knew that fortune cookies weren't exactly genuine fortunes, but this one didn't even make sense.

"Never mind," she said with a sigh, scrunching hers up and tossing it onto her plate. "Well I'd better be off."

"Yeah we'd better make a move too," said John getting to his feet, as the detective beside him did the same.

"It's been nice," said Rebecca with a smile towards the two men. "We should do this again."

John rolled his eyes, wondering if he'd ever get a chance to do anything with Rebecca without Sherlock haunting their every step.

"Yes definitely," he said elbowing Sherlock out the way to exit with Rebecca. "How about tomorrow night?"

...

Sherlock stared at his flatmate and his lawyer as they walked ahead of him out onto the busy street

With a stony expression, the detective tossed his fortune down onto the table as he followed them out onto the cold London street.

The tiny piece of paper gently unfurled as it lay there on the garish red tablecloth and the true fortune written in red ink could clearly be seen.

"_One who you admire greatly is hidden before your eyes."_

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**Hope that was okay! Bit fluffy I know...**

**Hopefully the next chapter will be much more exciting...I'll be sure to update soon.**

**Please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter- almightyswot, Are You Dizzy Yet, DeterminedStockings, Raine Cooper, Siibi, PoisonLily, xxkissesandcuddlesxx, Tracy137, Laudine, WordsWrittenByHeart, OhTex and ILoveHLaurie. Thanks so much.**

**I hope you like this chapter. Let me know what you think of it.**

**By the way. The story is sort of AU, or at least set sometime in between the second and third episodes.**

**Enjoy.**

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Sherlock was sat at the table typing away furiously on his laptop by the time John returned later that evening.

"Ugh, that afternoon shift will be the death of me," muttered the doctor striding through the open door.

He bent down to pick something up from the floor as his flatmate remained silent.

"Rebecca must have dropped this earlier," he murmured flinging down the scrap of paper Rebecca had scribbled her electricity meter readings on, down onto the table, where it landed beside the detective's laptop.

Sherlock reached for it absent-mindedly, as John took off his jacket and slumped down into an armchair.

"Anything in?" asked John closing his tired eyes.

Sherlock remained silent, closing his laptop with a sigh and rolled his ballpoint pen between his fingers.

"Not in a talkative mood huh?" said John without even opening his eyes. "Well I guess that's good thing for both of us."

Sherlock remained quiet, smoothing out the slip of paper in his hands and staring down at Rebecca's elegant handwriting.

_Monday around 9.00am - 06000_

_Tuesday around 9.00am - 03559_

_Wednesday (today) around 9.00am – 01202_

Sherlock stared down at the scrawl of numbers vacantly.

They meant nothing to him, just the scribbles of a person's dull life.

"Did I tell you?" said John suddenly. "Rebecca agreed to go on a date with me."

Sherlock tensed suddenly, his grip tightening around the pen in his hand.

"Yeah, she said if she had nothing else on she might come with me to the cinema next week," said the doctor in a chirpy voice.

Sherlock stared forwards, his eyes black.

"Didn't think she would say yes," said John getting to his feet and heading into the kitchen. "But I'm kinda' chuffed that she did."

Sherlock clenched his jaw and stared down as John left the room.

The ballpoint he had been clutching had been pressed down onto the scrap of paper he was holding so hard that it had created a tiny hole through the parchment. Even the oak table underneath has a small nib-sized indentation.

He groaned inwardly.

What did he care if John had a date with Rebecca?

He sighed gazing down at the paper before him that showed clear evidence that he was lying to himself.

Suddenly something caught his eye.

The hole in the paper had come out between the numbers that Rebecca had scribbled.

A number that now read.

012.02

He tilted his head.

These numbers...there was something odd about them...

Sherlock scanned the page, a thought sudden occurring to him.

He grasped for his abandoned pen and started to amend the script.

_Monday around 9.00am – 060:00_

_Tuesday around 9.00am – 035:59_

_Wednesday (today) around 9.00am – 012:02_

The detective stared down at the numbers. They weren't readings...they were...

"JOHN!" shouted Sherlock getting to his feet, his eyes never leaving the page of numbers clutched in his hand.

"What? What is it?" came the voice of John, poking his head around the great glass doors dividing off the kitchen.

"What time does Rebecca get up in the morning?" asked the detective, his brain working fast.

John stared at Sherlock like he was crazy. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just tell me!" shouted the exasperated Sherlock.

"I don't know, about 7 maybe?" said John shaking his head. "Why what's the matter? What's wrong?"

But Sherlock didn't answer and just continued to scribble.

"Sixty-two hours," he breathed staring down at the numbers. "Sixty-two hours."

"What is?" said John with a frown. "Sherlock what are you talking about?"

"Rebecca's meter John," said Sherlock brandishing the paper. "They weren't just readings. The numbers were counting down."

"What?" said John his eyes widening. "Counting down to what?"

"Rebecca had a break in. She said that nothing was stolen, but what if there was another reason for someone braking into her house. What if they attached something to her electricity meter?" said Sherlock striding about the room his fingers tugging at his curly clocks. "Oh yes. It all makes sense now. The moment Rebecca switched her electricity back on the countdown stared. Seven o'clock in the morning. Sixty-two hours, John. But why...?"

His heart pounding in his chest. "A sixty-two hours to what?" John breathed.

But before Sherlock had time to answer his phone bleeped. He dived into his pocket to grab it.

It was a text.

'_You figured it out. Clever you. _

_The answer indeed was sixty-two._

_But a lawyer's career is very short._

_When the power goes out, a lesson must be taught.'_

Sherlock stared down at the message, his heart pounding furiously in his chest.

"Sherlock what is it?" said John snatching the phone from the frozen detectives hand.

John's eyes became orbs as Sherlock glanced down at the scrap of paper once again.

_Wednesday (today) around 9.00am – 012:02_

"Nine o'clock," he muttered as John looked up at him. "She has until Nine o'clock tonight."

"Until what?" said John, his face paling.

"Until the power goes out," said Sherlock quietly.

"But its 8.40 now," said John his face forming into a worried frown.

In a second, Sherlock had snatched up his coat and made a dash for the door.

He ran down the stairs two steps at a time, John running after him.

"I'll call her!" yelled John, dialling her number on Sherlock's phone.

He pressed the mobile to his ear.

"Its engaged!" he cried angrily as Sherlock wrenched open the front door.

The two men bustled out onto the busy street.

"Try it again!" shouted Sherlock hailing a cab which pulled up quickly before them.

They got inside and slammed the door.

"Paisley Street and step on it!" cried John, trying Rebecca again.

Sherlock stared out of the window. He usually revelled in cases. A mystery...

But not this time.

Rebecca was in danger.

He just prayed that they could get to her in time.

Before it was too late.

...

Rebecca placed her mobile down onto the kitchen counter as she opened a can of dog food and emptied it into Toby's bowl.

"There you go Tobes," she said patting the dog's head affectionately as he munched down his supper.

She washed out the tin and threw it into the recycling bin, glancing up at the electricity meter as she did so.

00004 it read.

Rebecca sighed and shook her head, she really didn't understand these machines at all.

She had been on the phone to her electricity suppliers for the past hour and the last time she checked, the meter had read 00112.

Surely she wasn't using electricity that fast.

Rebecca grumbled, heading into the living room to watch some boring soap opera on the TV.

What she didn't notice was her mobile phone vibrating furiously on the counter, as the timer changed to 00003.

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**Hope you like that!**

**My boyfriend is coming over for a few days so I probably wont be able to update again until the end of the week. Cliffhanger...**

**But please review! **


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Thanks to my-beloved-monster, , almightyswot, Leila, Tracy137, algie888, starbrightnights, Iale, Laudine, WordsWrittenByHeart, OhTex, Old Gregg93, Yugicanbesexy, xxkissesandcuddlesxx for reviewing.**

**...**

The cab swerved around the corner and came to an abrupt halt outside a small terraced house on the end of a long street.

Sherlock quickly hopped out as John hurriedly paid the driver the fare.

The detective ran up the small path and hammered on the front door, his fist pounding the wood furiously.

After a couple of moments Rebecca appeared, looking bewildered.

"Sherlock, what the hell..." she started, but before she could finish, the dark haired man had pushed past her, in through the front door and sprinted into the kitchen where Toby began to bark at his presence.

Rebecca quickly followed him as John appeared beside her.

"Sherlock!" she cried angrily. "What are you doing here?"

She stared at the detective coldly as he leaned upon his kitchen counter staring up at the electricity meter the dog still yapping at his feet.

00003.

Suddenly he ran a hand underneath the box that hung above her kitchen cupboards, and tugged at the plastic.

He ripped off the covering quickly and the trio's eyes suddenly widened as they saw what was beneath.

"I-Is that a bomb?" Rebecca whispered quietly, her voice braking slightly, staring at the purple cylinder covered with wires.

But neither John nor Sherlock replied, both hypnotised with the sheer intricacy of the explosive before them. It was only when the timer ticked over to 00002 did either of them react.

"We need to get out of here now!" cried Sherlock grasping Rebecca's wrist and tugging her in the direction of the front door.

"No, it can't be a bomb...why would anyone want to...why me?" she yelled as the two men ushered her outside hurriedly.

Neither of them noticed the kitchen door slam behind them leaving the little dog Toby shut inside.

...

Sherlock refused to loosen his grip on Rebecca's wrist until the three of them had run down the garden path, stopping on the quiet street.

"Wait, Sherlock. I don't understand. That can't be a bomb!" she said pulling away from him finally.

"It is. You said yourself that you switched on the meter at 7 o'clock on Monday morning and since then your meter has been counting down. Sixty-two hours Rebecca. Someone did break in, but they didn't set out to steal something instead they set out to plant it!" said Sherlock, his eyes boring into Rebecca's.

The young lawyer's breath caught in her throat and she swung around placing a hand to her chest in horror.

"Wait," she suddenly whispered, her eyes searching the darkened ground around them. "Where's Toby?"

"The dog?" asked Watson. "H-He was in the kitchen..."

Rebecca's eyes suddenly widened and without warning she suddenly darted back towards the house.

"No, Rebecca you can't!" cried John catching her suddenly around the middle.

He was much stronger than she was and marched to keep hold of her even as she struggled in his grasp.

"Get off me!" she cried, with a whimper. "Toby's in there!"

Her eyes were wide and fearful as she pointlessly flailed against John's grip and in the smallest moment her eyes met with Sherlock's.

It was in that fleeting moment that the detective had made his decision.

In the blink of an eye, Sherlock had run back inside the house, his coat tails whipping around the door as Rebecca and John gasped behind him.

Sherlock leapt over Rebecca's flowery sofa and skidded across the rug in the centre of the room.

His heart pounded in his chest.

He pushed past a filled bookshelf and ran for the kitchen door, hauling it open.

Inside the cream tiled little kitchen stood the dog Toby yapping loudly at the machine in the corner of the room that was emitting a high pitched whirring sound.

Sherlock glanced up at it.

00001 it read in bright red numbers.

Sherlock eyes widened.

He snatched up the small dog, who wriggled and barked in his arms and ran from the tiny kitchen and back into the living room, the high pitched whirring getting louder and louder.

He jumped over the sofa and headed for the door as the whirring reached a terrifying crescendo...

...

John held back a sobbing Rebecca as Sherlock suddenly reappeared at the front door, Toby clutched tightly in his arms.

The lawyer made to run for the pair but Sherlock's loud voice halted her.

"Get back! Get back now!

In a sudden blinding flash, Rebecca, John and Sherlock were thrown off their feet as a loud explosion echoed in their ears.

Rebecca hit the ground with a thump, and attempted to shield herself from the shards of glass that showered the pavement all around her, but when she opened her eyes she found that something was already shielding her from the piles of debris and glass that was falling from the explosion.

Far away sounds of flames and yells echoed in here ears and she groggily stared up at the figure on top of her. His blue, shining eyes slowly becoming visible as he blinked them open, and got to his feet with a groan.

Rebecca slowly followed suit, and pulled herself into and upright position and stared up at the devastation before her.

A gaping hole was etched into the side of her house where flames licked and black smoke poured from.

She stared up at the devastation surrounding her as she heard the pitter patter of paws beside her and suddenly felt Toby bounce onto her lap.

She glanced down at the tiny dog and gave him a sudden squeeze knowing that he was the only thing she had left.

Everything else was lost.

...

**Please review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm so glad so many of you seemed to enjoy the last chapter. Thank you so much to ILoveHLaurie, Laudine, starbrightnights, Old Gregg93, The Beth midget, prettyinpunk66, Tracy137, PoisonLily, Yugicanbesexy, OhTex, Johannaderry, MaiaAvari, reallyverybored, WordsWrittenByHeart, Eleanor B-F, synethesiac and xxkissesandcuddlesxx for reviewing.**

**I hope you all like this chapter.  
**

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Sherlock gazed up at the dark and cloudy sky as droplets of rain began to fall all around him.

Flashing lights and a murmur of noise filled the now crowded street.

Neighbours and passersby had all congregated beyond a police line that was now cordoning off Rebecca's house, or at least the remnants of it.

Bricks and rubble lined the garden and pavement beyond, and fire fighters were working hard to put out the blaze that continued to burn inside the small terraced house.

Rebecca had informed Lestrade, who had been one of the first officers on the scene, that her neighbours were thankfully away on holiday, but the young lawyer had pretty much been inconsolable.

Sherlock glanced over to where Rebecca stood with John, on the glistening pavement, an orange blanket wrapped around her shivering shoulders.

She looked so different. Her usual coiffed now hair now hung past her shoulders limply while in place of her usual pencil skirt and blouse was a simple navy scoop neck t-shirt and jeans. Her shoulders were hunched over and her head was bowed.

Sherlock rocked back on his heels as he watched her from the corner of his eye.

A sudden urge to move over to her overwhelmed him. A well-placed hand upon her shoulder. He could provide her with that at least, after five years of service.

But before the detective could even move, John had suddenly approached Rebecca himself, pulling the weeping girl into a comforting embrace.

Sherlock's stomach jolted as he watched John rub gentle circles on Rebecca's back, and whisper soothing words into her ear.

His eyes narrowed as he watched the pair for several minutes, hugging on the rainy street.

It wasn't until Lestrade approached the pair did Sherlock finally stride over to them.

...

Rebecca watched as Sherlock finally ambled over towards her.

She had been grateful to him for saving Toby, of course she had been. But ever since the police had arrived and John had begun consoling her, Sherlock had not said a word and kept his distance.

She really needed him right now. She thought they had been...well, friends at least.

But it was like he didn't want to know her.

Like she wasn't interesting enough to know.

Anger bubbled up inside her as Sherlock walked towards her, his body stiff and his eyes cold.

"Miss Francis," came the solemn voice of Lestrade at her side. "I'm afraid from the looks of it were looking at a case of attempted murder. Were not quite sure why anyone would want to do this to you but we're looking into it as we speak."

Rebecca sniffed, rubbing her teary eyes on the edge of the blanket covering her shoulders, before her eyes suddenly flashed in Sherlock's direction.

"I'll tell you why, " she muttered angrily, "it's because of you. All of this. It's just someone trying to get to you through me."

As she spoke she poked Sherlock in the chest with her finger.

The detective stared back at her darkly. He didn't even care did he?

"I assure you this was nothing to do with me," he said in a low voice.

"Oh yeah?" said Rebecca shoving him with her hand. "You think that someone would come after me? I'm no-one Sherlock...but you...I've seen the things you've done...the people you've sent down. You've got enemies, and lots of them. I was just stuck in the middle!"

She glared up at Sherlock who remained stony-faced and silent, as angry tears poured from her eyes.

"Like I said," cut in Lestrade after a moment. "We have all our teams working on it. We'll catch whoever did this Miss Francis, don't you worry. But if you wouldn't mind, we'd like you to come down to the station and answer a few routine questions."

Rebecca sniffed and nodded her head before turning towards her blackened and destroyed house.

"But everything I owned was in there..." she mumbled.

"What? A hoard of over-priced handbags and a monstrosity of a sofa," said Sherlock mockingly.

Rebecca gaped.

This man who she had spent the past five years working for...this is all he could say to her.

Well, did she really expect any more from him? This arrogant, pompous...

The sound of Rebecca's hand colliding with Sherlock's cheek reverberated through the street like gunshot.

Both John and Lestrade gaped as Sherlock slowly lifted his gloved hand to his stinging cheek, a look of pure shock upon his face.

"Material things? Is that all you think I care about Sherlock?" yelled Rebecca loudly, drawing herself up to her full height. "I don't care about those things. What I've lost are memories. Photos and love letters...the things that matter to me. The things I care about. Friends, lovers, family...But you would know about any of that would you Sherlock? Because you don't care for anything but yourself!"

And with that, the tearful Rebecca turned on her heel and strutted towards the waiting police car and got inside.

Sherlock said nothing and merely stared solemnly after the police car as it pulled away, Rebecca's words still ringing in his ears.

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**Please review...**

**More coming soon.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks so much to all who have reviewed the last chapter. Thanks to Johannaderry, EvilPurpleCookiePenkeyMonguin, Leila, DigitalSunset, WordsWrittenByHeart, OhTex, Tracy137, ILoveHLaurie, The Beth midget, PoisonLily, Moobug, StixieMarie, Old Gregg93, SweetLilNothing, xxkissesandcuddlesxx, prettyinpunk66 and Laudine.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**

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It was almost 2.30am by the time Rebecca finally stepped out of Scotland Yard police station and into the crisp night air.

She shivered a little, clutching her bare arms as she walked with Lestrade.

"Have you got anywhere to stay?" asked the kindly Inspector, his breath visible in the frosty air before him.

Rebecca rubbed her tired face with her hand.

She was exhausted. Exhausted with answering questions...exhausted with everything.

"Well my parents emigrated to Australia...I have an aunt in Dorchester," she sighed, closing her puffy, red eyes. "I could probably give her a call..."

"And how on earth would you be able to perform your duties as my lawyer from Dorchester?" came a sudden voice from behind her.

Rebecca swung around and came face to face with the dark haired detective.

"Sherlock?" said Lestrade frowning. "What are you doing here?"

Rebecca frowned at Sherlock, but before she could say another word to him a yapping at his feet caught her attention.

"Toby!" she cried, crouching down as the little dog appeared through Sherlock's coat tails.

She patted the happy dog on the head before getting once again to her feet.

"So what _are_ you doing here?" she said gazing up uncomfortably into Sherlock's icy blue orbs.

"I need a lawyer, I have lots of cases on at the moment. All of which will need attending to," he said in a low voice.

Rebecca cocked her head and folded her arms across herself.

She had not forgotten what Sherlock had said to her before she had got into the police car earlier that evening. She was utterly upset that after five years of knowing each other that was all the detective thought of her.

She shook her head, biting her lip. "I need to go Sherlock..."

But the dark haired detective cut across her suddenly. "But everything is already arranged," he said his eyes penetrating Rebecca's own. "I've already called Mrs Hudson...she's getting everything prepared as we speak."

Rebecca's eyes widened as she stepped back slightly. "S-Stay with you?"

"At 221b Baker Street, yes," said Sherlock stiffly.

Rebecca looked over at Lestrade who simply shrugged. "I guess it's safer for you to stay with them, especially seeing as there might be a possible killer on the loose," sighed the Inspector.

Rebecca glanced nervously in Sherlock's direction.

"And that would be okay, would it?" she muttered quietly.

A small smile twitched at Sherlock's lips for the tiniest of moments before disappearing. "Of course. The cab's waiting."

Rebecca looked nervously over at Lestrade before making up her mind.

Perhaps this was Sherlock's way of saying sorry. Never in a million years could she even imagine him uttering the word. But maybe this was his own little way of saying it.

Rebecca nodded as Sherlock turned on his heel and clapped his gloved hands together, striding towards the waiting taxi at the far end of the empty parking lot.

"Well take care of yourself," said Lestrade shaking Rebecca's hand firmly. "And we'll be in touch."

"Thanks," sniffed Rebecca as she smiled at the Inspector.

Kind as he was, his words were no comfort.

She had nothing left. Everything had been destroyed in the fire. Her clothes and all her possessions had all been ruined, if not by fire, then by smoke damage.

All she had left was the grubby clothes she stood in.

She turned, beckoned Toby and began to walk across the car park, where Sherlock was stood waiting for her a few metres away.

Rebecca said nothing to him.

What was there to say?

She was exhausted. Words were just a waste at a time like this. All she wanted was to just close her eyes and sleep.

She suddenly shivered as an icy winter wind hit her.

All she had was a t-shirt and jeans. Not exactly winter clothes.

Her eyes were half closed when she suddenly felt something heavy and warm drop down onto her shoulders.

She looked around to see Sherlock carefully draping his own think coat over her.

Rebecca wanted to utter a thank you but before she could do so the detective had turned away again, his face stony.

Rebecca sighed inwardly as she slipped her arms into the cosy fabric and pulled it around her.

A deep, musky smell lingered in the fabric. A smell that reminded her of books, and oak furniture and, well...Sherlock.

She glanced up as the detective tugged open the cab door and held it open for Rebecca to hop inside.

She nodded as she did so and shuffled across the seat, as Toby jumped in and sat comfortably at her feet.

"Baker Street," said Sherlock to the driver before closing the door with a snap.

But not even that could rouse Rebecca from her drowsiness.

The evening had been tough and a weight now rested upon her shoulders.

Someone had wanted to kill her and regardless of whether it had anything to do with Sherlock or not, she was involved now. They knew who she was.

Murder, she mused. This was the kind of thing that Rebecca wrote up about in case studies and reports. Whereas this was just a day to day occurrence for Sherlock, Rebecca had never known anything like this before.

Never known fear like this.

She chanced a glance over at Sherlock who was staring pensively out of the window.

Rebecca wondered if she should apologise for the things she had said earlier that evening, about the detective caring about no-one but himself.

She had just wanted to get to him, to dig the knife in, after he had hurt her so bad.

Rebecca sighed, turning and staring out of the window to her left as the bright lights of London passed her by.

What she wasn't aware was that Sherlock had his eyes upon her the whole time, in the reflection in the darkened glass beside him.

...

Half an hour later the cab finally pulled up at 221b Baker Street and Rebecca, Sherlock and Toby all hopped out.

Rebecca sleepily watched as Sherlock opened the front door and ushered them inside.

"Oooh there you are!" said a loud voice from the top of the stairs as the tiny figure of Mrs Hudson appeared at the upstairs banister. "I wondered where you'd got to?"

Rebecca forced a smile as she ambled tiredly up the stairs, stifling a yawn behind her hand.

"Ooooh dear you look exhausted. You poor thing. Sherlock called ahead and told me what happened. I've got a bed made up for you and a nice hot water bottle ready under the covers," said Mrs Hudson fussing.

Rebecca reached the landing and shuffled quietly into the flat.

For once the place looked so warm, so inviting...much nicer than Sherlock's last residence.

She felt a body brush past her from behind and turned to see Sherlock removing his scarf and flinging himself down onto the sofa.

Rebecca stood awkwardly in the centre of the room as Toby ran around sniffing at everything eagerly.

"Now I've put one of my husband's old flannel shirts on the bed for you to sleep in," said Mrs Hudson, grasping Rebecca's arm and tugging her across the room to a door to the far left, as Toby followed.

Rebecca complied drowsily. Sleep was drawing in on her and her eyelids were heavy.

She nodded airily as Mrs Hudson chattered away and ushered her into a large room that Rebecca had never seen before, filled with oak furniture and strange objects.

Rebecca did not however dwell on this, she merely murmured sleepily as Mrs Hudson bid her goodnight and left the room, leaving her and her little dog alone.

The large bed in the centre of the room, upon which soft white sheets and a cosy green blanket lay, looked so inviting.

Rebecca slumped down upon it and pulled off Sherlock's warm coat reluctantly. She had been grateful for his gesture...

Placing it neatly onto the bedside chair beside her, she removed the rest of her clothes and slipped into the oversized red flannel shirt that Mrs Hudson had left for her, before manoeuvring herself under the covers.

Rebecca slumped down onto the plumped up pillows and sighed as Toby jumped up onto the foot of her bed and curled up into a ball.

The young lawyer turned her head into the pillow and breathed in a deep, musky, familiar scent before her eyes finally closed and she drifted off to sleep.

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**Please review!**

**Hope it wasnt too fluffy...  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thanks so much to dirtyrosh, algie888, Look-Me-Up, Tracy137, almightyswot, Leila, Laudine, WordsWrittenByHeart, synethesiac, starbrightnights, The Beth midget, Sky-Thorn, PoisonLily, ILoveHLaurie, jean, xxkissesandcuddlesxx, OhTex, PhilipMarlowe, Yugicanbesexy and Moobug for reviewing.**

**I hope you guys like this chapter. Again it's a bit of a filler but I will be sure to make the next chapter longer.**

**Also, Im really sorry if Im updating a bit quick. Im moving into a new flat and will not have internet access for a while, meaning that I wont be able to update so at the moment I am trying to get out as many chapters as possible. **

**Anyway. I hope you enjoy.**

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John made his way into the living room the next morning, a slice of toast hanging from his mouth as he slipped on his coat.

He had an early shift and after the previous nights' drama he was extremely tired.

He almost didn't notice the sleeping figure of Sherlock stretched out across the sofa as he passed through the gloomy room that morning.

He frowned as he caught sight of the slumbering man lying on his back, his unruly mop of dark hair hanging over his temples. The detective did have a habit of falling asleep in the living room after a late night but under much less comfortable conditions than this.

He was in fact sleeping on what looked like one of Mrs Hudson's floral pillows combined with a patchwork blanket.

The detective had indeed come home what seemed like much later than John, saying that he needed a word with Lestrade and taking a cab to Scotland Yard.

Sherlock had been forced to take Rebecca's dog with him as little Toby had refused to leave his side, pining for his owner too much. The dark-haired detective had sighed and taken the dog with him, but John doubted that he would have given the dog to Rebecca in person especially after what happened during their last meeting. John could still hear the echoes of the stinging slap in his own ears. Rebecca sure had been angry with Sherlock after how he had treated her and John was not sure he blamed her...

The doctor's thoughts were suddenly disturbed as the supposedly sleeping Sherlock suddenly spoke.

"Morning John," muttered the detective in a low voice, his eyes still closed.

John tutted, shaking his head and marching out of the door. He was in no mood for Sherlock's antics this early in the morning.

Opening the front door he stepped out into the chilly morning air.

...

It was mid afternoon by the time Sherlock finally found it.

Hidden inside the curtain rod.

It had been there for three, no longer than four weeks.

Lifting it to his face, he studied the tiny device and twirled it between his slender fingers.

So this is how they had done it...

Whoever _they_ may be. But he did have a good inkling. His biggest fan maybe...

The detective was in the middle of ripping out the tiny wires attached to the device by the time John finally strutted through the door at 3.30.

"What you got there?" John asked brushing snow from his shoulders as he entered and glanced over to the now dressed and more awake detective.

"We were bugged," said Sherlock, his eyes never leaving the tiny object. "But the question is, who by?"

John's eyes widened. "Bugged?" he said in a loud voice. "So you think this has something to do with Rebecca?"

Sherlock suddenly turned and faced the doctor, but instead of answering his eyes travelled past John gazed at something directly behind him.

John turned suddenly to see Rebecca standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

The young lawyer was stood there, her hair tousled, clutching the oversized flannel shirt around herself embarrassedly as a blush crept across her cheeks.

"Rebecca!" said John wide eyed. "W-What...w-where did you come from?"

The young lawyer took a step back and crossed her arms across herself embarrassedly.

"I, um, stayed here...in the spare room..." she muttered, as Toby the dog suddenly came running through the kitchen yapping happily at John's feet.

John frowned. "Spare room? But we don't have a..."

But the doctor suddenly trailed off, turning around to face Sherlock whose face was strangely stony.

He flashed John a look as Rebecca gave a gentle cough.

"Um, is it okay if I take a shower?" she asked quietly.

John swung around to face her, giving her a friendly smile. "Yeah of course," he muttered. "There are clean towels on the side."

She nodded as John took in her full appearance for the first time. Rebecca looked so different to how she usually did. Not just her clothes, but it seemed as though all of her confidence had been destroyed along with her clothes and possessions. All the fire that she once possessed was now gone...

Rebecca gave John a nervous smile before glancing over at Sherlock with wide eyes.

"Um your phone rang by the way," she said in a timid voice. "It was in your coat pocket. I didn't want to answer it..."

Sherlock quickly got to his feet moving over to Rebecca who nervously retreated into the bedroom as the detective followed, leaving John standing alone in the living room looking bewildered.

...

Rebecca moved over to the chair beside the bed, picking up Sherlock's heavy coat and handling it to him.

In an instant Sherlock had plucked his phone from the correct pocket and stared at the screen, his fingers tapping furiously away at the buttons.

"So why didn't you read it?" he asked after a moment of silence.

Rebecca looked up, her eyes widening.

"I, um...I didn't like to..." she said quietly, scrunching her oversized sleeves in her hands.

Sherlock glanced up at Rebecca, as the tapping subsided. "You never had a problem with it before," he muttered in a low voice.

Rebecca's eyes slowly narrowed in Sherlock's direction. "That was one time, Sherlock," she said defensively, her voice returning to its normal confidence level. "Besides, I thought you were withholding evidence."

A grin twitched at the detective's lips as he heard Rebecca's snappy retort.

He suddenly turned on his heel with a flourish and marched towards the door as Rebecca gazed after him.

"Towels are on the side if you want them," he said bluntly, his eyes locked onto his phone as he reached the open door.

Rebecca bit her lip. She knew just what the detective had done and she was so thankful to him for that. For returning with their normal banter.. For forcing her to forget her troubles, even if it was only for a moment.

"Sherlock," said Rebecca suddenly, causing the dark-haired man to halt in his tracks and glance over his shoulder.

"Thanks," she whispered, her eyes meeting with the detective's icy blue ones.

And in that moment he tiniest glimpse of something passed between the pair. Something neither of them had encountered in their five years working alongside one another.

Something new...

Sherlock lingered in the doorway for a few moments before giving Rebecca a short nod and heading out of the room, his spare phone tucked safely away inside his jacket pocket. A blank text residing in the sentbox.

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**I hope that chapter ending was clear enough for you and sorry it wasnt my best...  
**

**Did you like it?**

**Please review.**

**More coming soon...**


	14. Chapter 14

**Not too happy with this chapter, but please bear with me. I have some more ideas for this story coming very soon but in the meantime I hope you don't mind a bit of a filler chapter.**

**Thanks so much to almightyswot, wtldr, Tracy137, WordsWrittenByHeart, OhTex, Look-Me-Up, Moobug, xxkissesandcuddlesxx, ILoveHLaurie, The Beth midget, izzie22, Leila, Johannaderry, Yugicanbesexy & Laudine for reviewing. I'm so thankful for all your lovely reviews, they're the only thing that keeps me going, that and my love of all things Sherlock.**

**Please enjoy...**

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Rebecca wiped away the condensation that clung to the bathroom mirror and stared at her reflection.

Her little make-up from the previous day had vanished leaving her skin with a greyish tinge. She pinched her cheeks allowing them to be flooded with colour.

Wrapping both herself and her hair up in two fluffy towels she ambled back into the bedroom.

There she noticed a small neatly folded pile of clothes on the bed with a note placed on top.

_Bought you some clothes, I hope they fit. _

_Toby has been fed, watered and walked._

_Mrs Hudson._

Rebecca sighed as she read from the small slip of paper. There was really no need for the old woman to have done this for her.

Slumping back down onto the bed Rebecca felt a tear slowly roll down her cheek.

She felt so alone...

Her parents were on the other side of the world and apart from the two men on the other side of the door she had no one...no one to turn to.

Sighing, she let out a long breath and stared up at the ceiling, willing the tears to stop falling.

Rebecca never cried, but this past week had been tough...

First the break-in, now all this.

Biting her lip, her face suddenly became a frown.

No, she would not let this get to her. She was strong.

Sniffing, she wiped the remaining tears from her face and got to her feet.

She would not let this beat her.

...

John stared incredulously over at Sherlock from across the room, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So why didn't you tell me Rebecca would be staying over?" he asked, biting the side of his cheek.

Sherlock leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "I didn't think it would be a problem," muttered the detective in a low voice.

"W-Well it's not..." said John, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"It's not as though she'll be in your way with you working all the time," said Sherlock sharply. "Or do you think your feelings for Rebecca might make this living situation a little-"

"My feelings?" said John at once, his eyes widening.

Sherlock opened one eye and glanced at John with his brow furrowed but didn't reply.

John gaped and stepped back, glancing in the direction of Sherlock's closed bedroom door.

"You're the one giving her your bed!" whispered John behind gritted teeth.

Sherlock threw the doctor another menacingly-dark look before sitting up straight and pulling his laptop towards him, still not saying a word.

John huffed and placed his hands upon his hips. "And well, now you mention it," he said scratching his face with his hand, "I'm actually not interested in Rebecca as it goes."

"Oh," said Sherlock, though it didn't even seem like he was even listening anymore, typing away furiously on the keyboard.

"Yes, I actually have a date with Sarah," he said standing up straight. "She said she's willing to give me a second chance."

"Who's this?" came a sudden voice from behind John and he swung around to see Rebecca standing there, a slight smile upon her face.

She looked much different than she had earlier. Her hair was damp and now hung past her shoulders and she was dressed in a floral dress, leggings and a cardigan Mrs Hudson had bought for her only this morning.

John gave her a smile, as she waltzed past him into the living room and plopped down upon the sofa opposite Sherlock, tucking her legs underneath herself.

"Um, Sarah," said John glancing at Sherlock, who's eyes were now locked onto Rebecca. "The woman from the surgery that I work at."

Rebecca raised her eyebrows. "Sarah? As in Sarah from The Blind Banker?"

John grinned as Sherlock gaped.

"The Blind B... You read his blog?" said the detective accusingly.

Rebecca glanced between the two men, giving an uneasy laugh. "Yeah, of course I do," she said biting her lip.

Sherlock frowned before turning his eyes back to the laptop screen before him.

"Yeah, so I was just saying to Sherlock that Sarah's decided to give me another chance after that whole fiasco, and were off on our second date," said John, trying to act casually.

Rebecca nodded as Toby ran into the room and hopped up onto her lap.

"So where you taking her? Somewhere nice?" asked the young lawyer scratching Toby behind the ears as Sherlock looked on from the corner of his eye.

"The cinema," said John, just waiting for Sherlock to make some comment. "We're going to see the new Scorsese."

"Ugh, Dull," said the detective at once, but Rebecca's voice cut across his.

"Oh wow, I've wanted to see that film for so long," she said excitedly.

John heard Sherlock's typing immediately desist.

"Well if you want to come along..." offered John, checking his watch and reaching for his coat.

But Rebecca shook her head. "It's your second date John, I'm sure the last thing either of you want is to drag me along," she chuckled. "No, just let me know how it is."

She flashed John a smile as the doctor grabbed his keys from the side board.

"Well I hope you both have a good night," said John glancing over at Sherlock uneasily.

It was not as though he didn't trust his flatmate, but Rebecca was fragile enough at the moment without the insensitive Sherlock putting his foot in it.

John leaned over towards Rebecca on the pretence of reaching for his gloves that were situated on the arm of the sofa.

"Mrs Hudson's only downstairs so if you want to..." he whispered, but Rebecca cut across him.

"I'll be fine," she said, giving him a reassuring smile and handing him his woollen gloves.

John straightened up, giving a cough. "Okay then," he muttered throwing a glance at the typing detective. "Well have a good evening and uh...don't wait up."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as Rebecca giggled and gave John a wave as he left the room.

Rebecca sighed as Toby jumped off her lap and trotted back into the kitchen.

The young lawyer's eyes fell upon Sherlock who looked engrossed in his work, his icy blue eyes darting across the screen.

There was a silence in the room, only broken by the low rumbling of London traffic from the other side of the window, but Rebecca could certainly say it was not an uncomfortable one.

Leaning back against the couch cushions she closed stared up at the ceiling to where bullets holes seemed to have been imprinted.

Rebecca gazed around boredly for few moments before finally speaking.

"Can I borrow your laptop?" she asked biting her lip and looking over at the ever typing Sherlock.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Is it not obvious that I'm busy?" he said not looking up from the screen.

Rebecca grinned. "Yes but it is advisable to give yourself regular fifteen minute breaks, whilst working at a computer," she said teasingly.

Sherlock ceased his typing and stared over her. He narrowed his eyes.

A moment of silence passed between them. A test of sorts, determining who would break first.

"Fine," said Sherlock coldly after a few seconds, closing the laptop and pushing in towards her.

Rebecca's grin widened as she hopped from the sofa and snatched up the laptop as Sherlock retreated to the armchair besides the fire.

Rebecca flung herself back down on the sofa and opened up the computer, Sherlock's website being the first page to pop up.

"Got a case then?" asked Rebecca conversationally, arching an eyebrow at the seated detective.

"Hmmmmm," replied the seated detective nonchalantly.

Rebecca glanced up, as her stomach began to churn. "It's just that, well...I was wondering...well, whether...y'know...you'd found anything out about...well...what happened to me..."

Sherlock suddenly glanced up his eyes meeting with Rebecca green ones.

"Lestrade feels that he had it under control," said Sherlock simply.

Rebecca shuffled uncomfortably. "Do you?" she asked, with a gulp. "Feel that he had is under control, I mean?"

Sherlock stared at her intensely but didn't answer. It was as though Rebecca could see the cogs turning in his brain.

Rebecca had already turned back to the laptop and began to sift through her emails by the time Sherlock finally spoke.

"Yes," he said firmly. And that was the end to the conversation.

...

Half an hour later Rebecca lay on the couch staring up at the ceiling, as her stomach let out a low rumble.

Turning her head she gazed at the detective who was at in his armchair by the fire reading a book.

He was oddly still...for once. His eyes boring into the page open on his lap.

Dressed in his usual suit and shirt open at the collar, he looked strangely relaxed, for a man who went around solving murders.

Rebecca wondered how many nicotine patches he had on today...

"What?" said Sherlock suddenly, causing Rebecca to jump.

He wasn't even looking at her. How had he known...

"I'm hungry," she muttered. "Is the anything in?"

Sherlock sighed, shaking his head. "No, John neglected to do any shopping this week."

Rebecca huffed and pulled herself up into a sitting position. "Do you fancy a take-away then?" she asked absent-mindedly, pulling at the hem of her top. "I mean if you could lend me some money and, y'know...I'd pay you back straight away."

Sherlock looked up at her from over his book, a glint of something in his eyes.

Rebecca stared back embarrassedly. She hated asking anyone for money. Let alone from Sherlock.

"Or, y'know...you could take it out of my next month's worth of wages..."

But before she could finish her sentence Sherlock had sprung up and snatched up his coat, flinging it on.

"W-Where are you going?" asked Rebecca with a frown as the detective threw on his scarf.

"Sushi!" cried the detective, in a low and rather commanding voice. "Shall we."

"I-Is this something to do with a case?" she asked getting up from her seat, not needing to be asked twice.

Sherlock grinned as he flounced down the stairs and out of the front door, Rebecca following hurriedly in his wake.

"Of course," he cried stepping out into the cold night air. "The game is on Rebecca."

* * *

**Oh, I know, boring chapter right and so cliche, but I will be updating very, very soon and the next chapter contains a flashback to when Rebecca and Sherlock first met.**

**Please review.**


	15. Chapter 15

**This is by far my longest chapter yet. I was going to spilt it into two but decided against it.**

**Just so you know the flashback is in **_**italics.**_

**Anyway...thanks so much to those who reviewed my last chapter. Thanks to almightyswot, Look-Me-Up, Leila, GracefullyClumsy, OhTex, Hannah, ILoveHLaurie, The Beth midget, Johannaderry, izzie22, Rhea Bleu, xxkissesandcuddlesxx, Laudine, Yugicanbesexy and wtldr for reviewing.**

**It meas so much to me guys.**

**Please leave a review after this let me know if you liked it, because I was nervous about getting this chapter out there...**

**Anyway...enjoy.**

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Sitting opposite Sherlock in a softly lit area of the restaurant, Rebecca stared at the menu.

The table was small, not that it was a problem for Rebecca, just that it was rare that she and Sherlock were in such close proximity.

From here she could see the tiniest laughter lines upon his face, the single freckle dotted on his slender neck and his icy blue eyes ...that were now suddenly boring into hers.

He had caught her looking.

Rebecca reddened, lifting the menu up to hide her blushing face.

So what if he had caught her? Was it a crime? Looking at someone...

She gulped and chanced another glance at him.

Yes his eyes were still upon her.

Crap.

"Listen," she said conversationally, flipping over to the back page, pretending to read the wine menu. "I-I never really said sorry for ...well, yesterday...for slap-"

"Shall we order," said Sherlock sharply, cut across Rebecca's sentence as the waiter appeared beside them.

Rebecca stifled a grin. Maybe the thought of it was just too painful for him to recollect.

"Would you like drinks to start?" asked the waiter politely looking from Sherlock to Rebecca.

The young lawyer glanced down at the menu.

"Um...I'll have glass of the red please," mumbled Rebecca.

The waiter glanced up. "We do have an offer on bottles at the moment if the both of you would like to share?"

Rebecca looked nervously up at Sherlock who frowned for a moment before nodding his head.

Rebecca smiled behind her menu. Perhaps this night might be better than she first thought.

They both ordered their food and a few moments later the waiter re-appeared with a large bottle of wine, filling each of their glasses.

Rebecca took a long, well-deserved swig as Sherlock stared over at her.

"So," said Rebecca, carefully placing down her glass and staring around. "What are we doing here anyway?"

The detective leaned forwards in his seat and rested his elbows on the table causing the little space that was between the pair to disappear.

"A man died here, three nights ago," he said in a monotone voice causing Rebecca's eyes to widen suddenly.

"D-Died?" she said loudly, causing people on the nearby tables to turn and face her. She gave them an apologetic look before turning back to Sherlock.

"He died?" she repeated. "I hope it wasn't from the food."

"Sherlock shrugged. "The police believe that he was mistakenly poisoned. He had eaten Fugu, a fish that if not prepared correctly can be deadly to anyone that eats it. The chef is believed to be the cause of the man's death."

Rebecca cocked her head. "But you think the police are wrong?" she said in a whisper.

The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched into a grin, as he leaned back in his seat. "No," he said fiendishly. "I'm certain that they are."

Rebecca could help but smile as she watched this man. So gleeful in solving a crime.

She wondered if he would ever get around to solving hers...

"Sherlock, I was just wondering..." but before she could finish her sentence, the waiter appeared with their cutlery, chopsticks and condiments.

Rebecca couldn't help but sigh, the moment was lost.

She was too proud...

Too vain...

And _much_ too stubborn to beg for help...

Especially from someone like Sherlock.

* * *

_Five years ago_

_Rebecca was late._

_Her first new client since starting her job at Emmett&Spinkley Lawyers Co and she was running fifteen minutes late._

_First she had got caught in the rain, and then there had been severe delays on the tube._

_Now she ran through Greater London in the pouring rain, attempting to juggle her umbrella, her briefcase and an overpriced cup of coffee._

_Oh how she hated London..._

_Her parents had emigrated to Australia at the beginning of the year, leaving Rebecca alone with nothing but her little puppy Toby and a worrying amount of student debt. Having done both a degree in politics then later in law she had been snapped up by Emmett & Spinkley as soon as they'd interviewed her..._

_But on a day like today she wondered why she'd ever chosen to stay here in London at all._

_She was 24, she had no friends, no family close by...and if she lost that client she doubted she would even have a job either._

_Running across the rainy street towards her meeting place, Rebecca groaned as she stepped into a deep puddle and water flooded over her new suede high-heels._

_There was no way this day could get any worse..._

"_Just great," she muttered staring down at her ruined shoes. _

_The young lawyer made to turn and walk into the high office building before her, but as she did so she bumped into a tall, dark-haired figure, sending the coffee that she was holding flying into the air._

_Rebecca watched in a horrified slow motion as the lid from the cup flew off and the dark brown liquid came teeming down all over her crisp white blouse._

"_You idiot!" she cried angrily staring up at the man before her, whose brow suddenly furrowed._

_He was no more than a couple of years older than Rebecca herself with a mop of short dark hair and a long tailored coat._

_Rebecca's eyes narrowed. She knew that she was more in the wrong than he was, but he could at least give her an apology._

_But there came no reply from the dark-haired man's lips._

_Rebecca huffed staring down at her blouse and shoes sadly. They were both ruined. Her client would never agree to see her looking like this._

_It was just so...unprofessional._

"_Out of my way," she said, brushing past the man who had bumped her and flouncing into the building through the revolving doors._

_A moment later she was standing at the reception desk her head held high, but the coffee stain only soaking deeper and deeper into her blouse._

"_Hello," said a blonde receptionist, eyeing Rebecca's ruined garment with distaste. "How can I help you?"_

"_Hi, I'm here to see...um..." the young lawyer began rifling through her briefcase for the sheet of paper with her client's name written upon it._

_Finally pulling the document from her case she was horrified to find that some of the coffee had soaked through into her briefcase and half of the name was now obscured by a large brown smudge._

_She looked up uneasily at the pouting receptionist, but as she did so a shadow appeared over her shoulder and Rebecca turned, to see the dark-haired man from outside, standing right behind her._

"_What the hell do you want?" she asked rudely, giving him a sharp frown._

_The man stared at Rebecca blankly. "You dropped these," he muttered holding up a set of keys with a silver dog keychain attached to it. _

_Rebecca' eyes widened and she snatched the keys from the man's' grasp._

_Well at least the idiot had done one good thing today._

_Losing those keys could have made this day the worst of her life._

"_Thanks," she muttered brusquely, turning back to the desk._

_But the man remained close behind her._

_Rebecca turned to face him again. _

"_Was there anything else?" she said raising her eyebrows. _

"_No, though I don't believe it is a crime to stand in line," he said in a low voice, giving Rebecca a forced and very much fake smile._

_Rebecca frowned and meant to make a retort about personal space, but before she could do so there was a loud 'ahem' from behind the desk._

_Rebecca turned back around, forcing her own smile. "Yes," she said glancing down at the paper in her hands. "I'm here to see Mycroft Ho- Holt?"_

_Rebecca saw the receptionist roll her eyes before turning to the computer._

_Rebecca bit her lip, the presence of the man close behind her was so distracting._

"_He left ten minutes ago," said the receptionist suddenly turning back to face Rebecca. "You were late."_

_Rebecca froze a little shell-shocked._

_She had lost her first client. She was sure to be fired for this..._

"_Is there a chance-" started Rebecca but the receptionist cut across her brusquely._

"_I'm afraid he's a very busy man and has no patience for time-wasters," said the snooty blonde._

_Rebecca let out a slow nod and a quiet sigh._

_She turned, pushing past the dark-haired man, who the receptionist immediately addressed._

"_Ah Mr Holmes, I'm afraid he's in a meeting," she said in a much more cheery and alluring voice._

_Rebecca made to turn away, walk back out into the rain in her sopping wet shoes and stained clothes, but a figure suddenly stepped in front of her._

"_Leave me alone," said Rebecca staring up at the man the receptionist had called Holmes, who gazed back at her with such intensity._

_He didn't speak but simply remained in Rebecca's way, blocking her exit._

"_What's your problem?" she said bluntly, shoving past him, her shoulder meeting solidly with his arm._

_When she was only a couple of feet away the man suddenly spoke, his voice deep and engaging._

"_I need a lawyer," he said purposefully as Rebecca stopped in her tracks._

_She swung slowly around to face him._

"_H-How did you know I was a lawyer?" she said with a frown, staring up at this strange man._

"_I have cases, they won't be too difficult for you to write up I'm sure. I often work alongside the police so as long as you follow the standard format then I don't that there should be a problem," he muttered, rifling through his pockets._

_Rebecca gaped as the tall man handed her his card. "Sherlock Holmes," he said confidently._

_Rebecca studied the small card with interest. _

"_Consulting detective?" she said raising an eyebrow._

_The man named Sherlock suddenly looked at her with a frown. "Problem?" he said quickly, brushing past her. "Give me a call and we can set up a further meeting. Actually make it a text."_

_Rebecca swung around and made to go after him._

"_Wait," she cried, tottering behind him as he made his way to the doors. "How did you know that I was a lawyer?"_

_Sherlock suddenly stopped in his tracks swinging around to face her. At this Rebecca stepped back nervously._

_He was a looming spectre and his eyes bored into hers._

"_Oh I know a lot more than that Miss Francis," he said with a smirk, his eyes glinting, before he turned on his heel once again and made his wait through the revolving doors._

_Rebecca gaped. How had he known..._

"_Wait up!" shouted Rebecca, following him hurriedly out of the doors and back onto the rainy street, forgetting all about the closed umbrella in her hand._

_She ran towards the slowly retreating Sherlock, grabbing his arm and pulling him around to face her._

"_Who are you? How did you know my name?" she asked her eyes wide, searching consulting detective's blank face._

_He narrowed his eyes slightly, before finally answering. "The notepaper you'd written your client's name on...it was headed Rebecca Francis. Probably a gift when you began your work for Emmett&Spinkley, as was the briefcase," he said pointing down toward the briefcase Rebecca held. Emmett and Spinkley's gold emblem stamped upon it._

"_Its new, so you've haven't worked there long. Perhaps a month," continued Sherlock. "The urgency in your voice when you found out that your client had left means that he was important to you. Probably you're first. So you were nervous...late."_

_He paused, his eyes roving over Rebecca's appearance. "You're twenty-four, young but very well educated. Oxford most likely. Your parents are well off, but you're in debt. You won't go to them for money. So you're stubborn and proud," he muttered, his eyes shining._

_Rebecca stepped back a little shell-shocked. Who was this man?_

"_What the hell are you some kind of psychic? " Rebecca demanded almost stomping her foot. Maybe she_ was_ stubborn after all..._

_Sherlock cocked his head at her. "No. I'm not. Consulting detective," he said in a low voice. "Besides not only are you stubborn but you're too intelligent to believe in things like that. Logic is much more your forte Miss Francis and it doesn't take any sort of deduction to figure that out."_

_Rebecca stared at this man, frozen to the pavement as his icy eyes bored into hers. She had forgotten about the rain and the client and ...well, everything. Now it was just her and Sherlock, as if nothing else in the world mattered._

"_And finally you're intrigued; I can see it in your eyes. That's why you ran after me. You're disillusioned with your own life. You want something more...Something better...You're bored."_

_She stared at him, unable to believe her ears. _

_Who the hell was this guy? This Sherlock Holmes? And how the hell had he deduced all that?_

_Rebecca had no idea. All she knew was that she didn't like it._

_His eyes upon hers made her shiver. _

_How can a person know that much after just one meeting?_

_He knew exactly what she was thinking...feeling...she _was_ bored. He had been right about that._

_Her face formed into a dark scowl. _

_She didn't like this man. Or what he was capable of deducting._

"_Piss off," she said suddenly, storming past him, bumping his shoulder as she went._

_She was angry. This man had messed up her day. _

_Ruined everything!_

_Rebecca walked across the busy street as rain fell all around her, it was only when she was half way across the road that she noticed a cab speeding towards her, its tires screeching along the slippery concrete._

_She stopped._

_Still._

_Trapped._

_She hadn't noticed in all her anger and now she was frozen to the spot with no escape._

_Like a rabbit in the headlights..._

_Her eyes widened as the car tried to brake, but it was only mere feet away from her..._

_It would never stop in time..._

_Suddenly Rebecca felt a strong arm grip her tightly around her waist and drag her out of the way as the cab sped past, its horn beeping loudly._

_Rebecca stumbled onto the wet pavement, falling on her hands and knees and panting heavily as her rescuer tumbled to the ground next to her._

_It was a few moments before Rebecca re-gained her composure and gazed up at the man who had saved her._

"_You?" she said looking up into Sherlock's icy blue eyes as he caught his breath beside her, slowly getting to his feet._

_The man said nothing but sniffed and brushed himself down before offering Rebecca a hand._

_Rebecca gazed up in awe before taking the man's hand and allowing him to pull her up off the rain-strewn pavement._

_She was trembling badly as she clambered to her feet._

_She had almost been killed. _

_She tried to mumble a thank you but no words seemed to come out of her mouth._

_No fitting words at least, to thank this man for what he had done._

_The road was filled with busy passersby, barely taking any notice of the two death-defying figures huddled near to the pavement edge, both sopping wet and shell-shocked._

"_Come on," said Sherlock after a few moments, glancing this way and that. "I'm starving."_

_Rebecca frowned staring at this impossibly mad man and shaking her head in disbelief as he began to walk away. _

_A few feet away he suddenly looked over his shoulder. "You coming or not?" he commanded._

_Rebecca bit her lip. _

_She knew she'd probably regret this..._

_A few seconds later Rebecca was running along after him, her high-heels clattering on the rain sodden pavement._

_Just at that very moment, across the street, Mycroft Holmes had clambered out of his town-car._

_His eyes suddenly latched onto the two retreating figures._

"_Is that my brother?" he said questioningly to his PA who was lingering at his heels._

_She looked up. "Yes, the receptionist text me and told me he'd called in."_

"_Then why the hell didn't he wait?" muttered Mycroft, more to himself than anyone else. _

_The PA shrugged her shoulders, texting furiously on her blackberry._

"_Hmmmm," said Mycroft leaning on his car door. "Who_ is_ that woman with him?"_

_The PA glanced up momentarily. "A friend?"_

_Mycroft narrowed his eyes watching after the two figures as the ambled down the street deep in conversation._

"_Hmmmmm, funny thing is my brother doesn't have friends..." he said quietly, closing the car door with a slam. "I'll have to keep my eye on those two..."_

_Mycroft watched as his brother disappeared around the corner._

_The young girl close at his side._

_

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_

Present day

An hour and a half later Sherlock hopped out of the cab, paying the driver as Rebecca stumbled after him.

Her cheeks were rosy and her speech ever so slightly slurred after three glasses of wine.

Sherlock didn't particularly mind.

It wasn't as if she was drunk, more tipsy than anything.

He unlocked the door to 221b ushered Rebecca inside.

"So did you work it out then?" she said rubbing her cold hands together once she had stepped into the warm house. "The sushi case?"

Sherlock brushed past her and headed up the stairs towards the flat as she followed.

"Of course," he muttered, unravelling his scarf. "It was the waiter."

Rebecca frowned. "The waiter? What?...Our waiter?" she said incredulously as Toby ran out to greet them.

Sherlock nodded and flashed her a grin as he got to work lighting a fire in the grate. "The chef was a craftsman. He wouldn't make a simple mistake like that, especially when it came to Fugu. But his brother on the other hand..."

"What the waiter was the chef's brother?" said Rebecca shaking her head.

"Yes of course, didn't you see his hands?" said Sherlock, but he made no effort to explain. "The poison found in the dead man's system wasn't from the fish, it was from the chopsticks."

"Ok, now you've lost me," said Rebecca spinning around on the spot tipsily.

Sherlock stood up. "The chopsticks had been laced with a poison, administered by the waiter, who was desperate for his own chance at being Head Chef at the restaurant."

Rebecca stood, flabbergasted.

"Wait," she said suddenly shaking her head as Sherlock slunk past her and flopped down onto the sofa. "You gave him a tip!"

Sherlock eyed her. "And a note, identifying him as the true killer, and telling him to hand himself in to the police."

"No wonder you have enemies," she said with a chuckle.

Sherlock merely shrugged as Rebecca gave a wide yawn.

"Tired?" he asked cocking an eye at her.

The young lawyer nodded. "Perhaps I should go to bed," she muttered rubbing her tired eyes.

In an instant, Rebecca had moved over to the sofa and flopped down beside Sherlock.

"What are you doing?" asked the detective with a frown.

"Going to bed," she said turning to him and smiling.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"Oh come on Sherlock. Did you honestly think I wouldn't figure it out...It's _your_ bedroom Sherlock," she said nodding towards the door at the far end of the kitchen. "Who else would keep a pack of nicotine patches and a Bunsen burner on their bedside table?"

She gave the detective a shove. "Now go!" she said firmly. "I'm really grateful for last night, but I'm fine sleeping on the couch...and as soon as I can I'll be out of your hair for good."

Sherlock's frown deepened. "I often don't sleep...sleeping just slows me down...you take the room," he said sharply, his face hardening.

Rebecca folded her arms. "Sherlock, I'm taking the couch..." she said seriously.

The Detective stared at her, his face forming into a scowl, before he too crossed his arms, mirroring her pose.

"I was right about you..." said Sherlock staring at Rebecca. "You are stubborn."

Rebecca plumped up the cushion behind her and settled back down upon it, flashing Sherlock a devilish smile. "Yeah, well...takes one to know one."

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**Hope that was okay...**

**Please review...**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank so, so much to The Beth midget, meggieleigh, almightyswot, Johannaderry, Laudine, GracefullyClumsy, Yugicanbesexy, Tracy137, blod1tatws, OhTex, ILoveHLaurie, Ana Cullen12, Look-Me-Up, xxkissesandcuddlesxx and izzie22 for reviewing.**

**One reviewer (that I haven't included in my thank you list) wrote that my Rebecca is a bit of a 'Mary-Sue' I hope you don't all agree with that statement. I originally wrote a rant about it, but decided that you don't want to hear me moaning you just want to get to the story. So hear it is for the rest of my lovely readers. **

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John winced as the floorboards under his feet creaked loudly as he quietly made his way up to the flat.

He was scared that he had already woken the whole house up with his accidental slamming of the front door.

It was 6.30 in the morning and John had already done the walk of shame back to the 221b from Sarah's house.

He had stayed the night. Sleeping on a lilo of course, but it was a development.

John grinned to himself.

His date with Sarah had gone well, with no Sherlock present this time to mess things up.

It had just been a normal date, with a normal girl to see a normal film.

John reached the landing and as carefully and as quietly as he could, turned the door handle.

As he peered around the door he was met with a sight he thought he would never see.

Sherlock was sprawled across the couch, his long fingers entwined across his chest. His head lolling back over the arm of the chair. This was no rarity, for John often came back to find Sherlock like this.

But it was the second figure that had drawn his eye.

At the other end of the couch, nearest the door, lay Rebecca curled up, sleeping peacefully. Her head resting on a cushion.

John frowned taking in the sight before him.

Rebecca's dainty feet carelessly touching Sherlock's knee.

Both in the same clothes as the previous day.

John hushed Toby, as the little dog suddenly ran in from the kitchen to greet him, wagging his tail happily.

"Do you want some food boy?" said John with a smile, ambling across the room towards the sliding doors, glancing back at the pair as he did so.

They both looked so peaceful.

John was sure he had never seen Sherlock looking so content. There almost always seemed to be a slight sign of worry on his face.

But not now.

Not with Rebecca mere inches away from him, sleeping peacefully.

Taking one last look at the pair, John shut the large sliding door dividing off the kitchen with a snap. A knowing smile lingering on his face.

...

Rebecca strutted down the busy high street, bags of clothes, make-up and shoes swinging from her hands.

She had awoken that morning to find herself curled up on couch, alone.

The absence of either of the two men residing at the flat was later confirmed when Rebecca had finally ambled out of the shower 30 minutes later to find a text waiting for her on the phone John had lent her.

_Found a case._

_Gone with John._

_Will be back this evening._

_SH_

Rebecca had rolled her eyes.

It was so typical of Sherlock to just go running off at a moment's notice.

When she was drying her hair another text came through.

_If you need clothes, take my card._

_You know the pin._

_SH_

At this, Rebecca had smiled to herself.

The couple had spoken over dinner the previous night about Rebecca's lack of possessions, a warm coat or even a dog leash for Toby.

She had to admit the absence of her belongings was slightly depressing.

So she had taken Sherlock's card and headed into town.

His pin hadn't been that difficult to work out.

She was his lawyer after all and probably knew him better than most.

So Rebecca had spent the last hour and a half buying all the things she needed to tide her over for the next few days.

And now, laden with bags, she decided that she would make her way home.

Well back to 221b at least...

Her phone suddenly buzzed.

It was Sherlock.

"Hello?" said Rebecca lifting the mobile to her ear.

"There's been a development," came the recognisable voice of the detective from the other end of the line.

Rebecca frowned. "What do you mean a development?" she asked slowly. "A-About what happened to my house? Do they know who did it?"

There was a pause before Sherlock spoke again. "No..._they_ aren't sure. But I have some..._ideas."_

"Ideas?" asked Rebecca chewing her lip.

"Yes," said Sherlock bluntly. "We'll talk later. See you back at the flat."

Rebecca heard the line go dead, but before she could remove the phone from her ear she accidentally walked right into someone, spilling her bags all over the pavement.

"Sorry," came a quiet male voice as Rebecca re-gained her balance and looked up at the figure.

He was short, with dark hair and a sweet smile. He looked embarrassedly over at Rebecca before bending down and quickly picking up her purchases for her.

"Thanks," said Rebecca a little flustered as he handed the shopping backs back to her.

"Again," he said placing a gentle hand upon her arm. "Am I am so, so sorry. I mustn't have been looking where I was going."

Rebecca shook her head and gave the man a smile. "don't worry, wither was I," she chuckled.

Well this was refreshing, she thought to herself. Someone in London actually apologising.

The man smiled back. "I'm Jim by the way," he said shyly, tucking his hands into his jean pockets.

Rebecca blushed. "I'm Rebecca, Rebecca Francis," she said sweetly.

"Well nice to meet you Rebecca," he said holding out his hand which Rebecca shook cheerily.

There was awkward pause.

"I don't suppose...well...um...you fancy...a cup of coffee or something?" asked Jim nervously.

Rebecca bit her lip.

It wasn't as though he wasn't cute, or sweet or charming...

But as soon as Jim had uttered those words, asking her out, a sudden image of Sherlock had fluttered into Rebecca's sub-conscious.

But why...

It wasn't as if she and Sherlock were...

Well...

They were friends...

She enjoyed his company...

That was all...wasn't it?

"Um..." said Rebecca awkwardly, Sherlock's face still swirling through her mind. "See the thing is...I'm a little busy at the moment..."

She didn't even know why she said it...

She wasn't busy. It was a complete lie.

Was she actually trying to keep herself available ...for Sherlock?

She shuddered.

Impossible.

They were friends...just friends...that was all...right?

As soon as Rebecca had spoken, Jim's face suddenly seemed to lose all of its light. Its happiness.

"Oh," he said a little downheartedly. "Okay..."

Rebecca suddenly froze chewing her lip fiercely.

"But listen," she said suddenly backtracking. "Give me your number...I might be free tomorrow?"

Jim's face suddenly cracked into a wide smile. "Oh yeah of course," he said rummaging through the pocket of leather jacket and pulling out his mobile.

He handed the device to her so that she could punch is number into her own phone.

"Great," she said, entitling the contact 'Jim' and placing her borrowed phone back into her bag.

"Cool, so I might see you tomorrow then," he muttered with a smile.

"Yeah," said Rebecca blushing. "I'll give you a text or something."

She knew it was probably a lie, but she didn't want to break his heart right here on the spot.

He turned and crossed the road, giving her an awkwardly little wave as he did so.

Rebecca smiled and waved back, before heading off down the street in search of an awaiting cab.

But what she didn't notice the small figure of Molly Hooper standing across the road, her arms folded. A dark scowl lingering on her face.

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**Please review.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Sorry if this update was a little too quick but I am moving into my new flat tomorrow and will be without an internet connection for god knows how long. But don't give up hope, I will be on here to update as soon as I possibly can because I love my readers and all of the wonderful and uplifting reviews you bless me with. Thank you all so much. **

**A big thanks to blod1tatws, Tracy137, GracefullyClumsy, Laudine, starbrightnights, rawr52, ILoveHLaurie, wtldr, Johannaderry, Pam Briggs, dirtyrosh, OhTex, xxkissesandcuddlesxx, izzie22, Moobug, WordsWrittenByHeart, Look-Me-Up and cflat for the reviews.**

**Sorry this chapter is a bit Sherlock light, I hope you still like it...**

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Rebecca shuddered as she walked up to a cab and opened the door.

A sudden odd feeling washed over her, as if someone close by was watching.

Like there was a pair of eyes on her, surveying her every movement.

Glancing up she gazed around the street.

Everyone seemed to be going by their own business, not taking any notice of the pausing lawyer.

She jumped as the cab driver suddenly rolled down his window. "Where to love?" he asked gruffly.

Rebecca stepped back, suddenly feeling ill at ease.

The strange feeling that she was being watched combined with the memory of reading Watson's account of 'A study in Pink' made her glare at the cabbie accusingly.

"Actually," she said with a sniff. "Id rather walk..."

And with that she slammed the door, as the cab driver huffed, and ran across the roar hurriedly.

She walked with a quick pace, her shopping bags swinging at her arms.

It wasn't until she was a few streets away did Rebecca finally slow down.

Baker Street was only around the corner and she felt sort of safe knowing that Sherlock's home was nearby.

That the familiar faces of Mrs Hudson, John or even Sherlock himself were mere metres away.

Well, when they were in that was.

It wasn't until she was at the end of the long street did she hear a sudden loud voice behind her, causing her to almost jump out of her skin.

"H-He's not interested in you, s-so stay away from him do you hear me!"

Rebecca swung around, her eyes wide.

Standing behind her, face awash with tears was a girl Rebecca had definitely seen before.

She had mousey brown hair and dark lines down her cheeks where her mascara had run quite badly.

Racking her brain, the identity of this woman finally dawned upon Rebecca.

"Molly, right?" she said gently. "Molly from the morgue?"

The woman stood, her hands balled into fists at her sides and stared at Rebecca, her whole body trembling as she did so.

"He's mine," said Molly loudly, her lip quivering. "He's not into you, okay!"

Rebecca backed up holding her hands aloft. "Listen if this is about Sherlock..." began Rebecca. "I'm just staying with him for a while, until my house gets sorted. We're not..."

"Sherlock?" said Molly quickly, cutting across Rebecca.

Rebecca frowned. "Yeah Sherlock, wasn't that who you were talking abou-"

"No!" snapped Molly. "Jim! I-I saw the two of you together."

Rebecca looked startled. "Jim?...What, the guy I just met?" She lifted her hand and pointed back in the direction of town.

Molly nodded. "I saw you...talking to him..." she spat.

Rebecca lifted her hand to her head and sighed.

"Molly, listen I-"

But before she could get a chance to explain herself Molly had stepped forwards, so that she was now mere inches away from Rebecca.

"J-Just stay away from him okay?" said Molly, tears pouring down her face, yet her eyes had a look of steely determination within them.

Rebecca bit her lip and tried not to laugh.

The last time they had met Molly had been so quiet and still and now she was a mere wreck of a woman.

"Listen," said Rebecca shaking her head. "I'm not into this Jim guy...we literally just met. He bumped into me that was all..."

Molly backed off a little. "But I saw you laughing with him...h-he touched your arm.."

Rebecca resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"I was a little flustered," she said with a weak smile. "He was just making sure I was okay..."

Molly chewed on her lip.

"So you weren't-"

"No," said Rebecca simply.

"And he wasn't-"

"No," lied Rebecca, with barely a flicker.

Molly suddenly clutched her hand to her mouth.

"I-I'm so sorry," she stuttered as more tears began to pour from her eyes.

"Its okay," said Rebecca, approaching the crying woman a little apprehensively.

"I-Its just that Jim is the first guy who's actually liked me for me," she said with a wail, causing people across the street to look over at them.

Rebecca gulped, before patting Molly gently on the back.

"I've made a total fool of myself," she said sobbing.

Rebecca softened a little. She felt sorry for this poor woman. She must be very insecure. Something Rebecca herself was subject to from time to time. The littlest insecurities niggling away.

"No, you haven't," said Rebecca comfortingly, as Molly's wails came to an ear-deafening crescendo.

Rebecca winced, before looking up and down the street.

"Listen, I'm actually staying just around the corner," said Rebecca, knowing that she would probably regret the next part of her sentence. "...do you fancy coming in for a cup of tea?"

Molly's eyes suddenly widened and she stopped crying for a moment.

"Really?" she said, gazing up at Rebecca who nodded.

"Sure," said the young lawyer, with a weak smile. "It's this way."

And with that Rebecca and Molly walked side-by-side up the street and around the corner and into Baker Street.

* * *

Rebecca unlocked the door to the flat with the spare key Sherlock had left for her.

"Anyone in?" she called up the stairs but there came no reply.

Rebecca turned around and held the door open for the tear-stained Molly as she stepped over the threshold.

"It's just up here," said Rebecca with a warm smile heading up the stairs as the young woman trudged nervously behind.

Rebecca opened the door to the sitting room and gestured to the couch as Toby came running in from the kitchen.

"Have a seat," remarked the lawyer placing down her heavy shopping bags on the table.

But when she turned to look at Molly she noticed the girl standing shock still in the doorway, gazing around the living room in awe.

"T-This is Sherlock's place?" she whispered, as if not quite able to believe her eyes.

Rebecca grinned. "Yeah, suit's him don't you think," she said, her eyes lingering uneasily on the skull on the mantelpiece.

"So y-you're staying with him?" asked Molly quietly moving further into the room, her hands brushing over the back of Sherlock's chair in front of the fire.

"Yeah, there was an...accident...at my house," said Rebecca with a gulp. "An explosion..."

Molly looked up suddenly. "T-That was you?"

Rebecca frowned, opening the large sliding door that divided off the kitchen, before nodding.

"It was all over the news," continued Molly. "The police said it was a gas explosion."

Rebecca's stomach suddenly twisted into knots. "G-Gas?" she stuttered.

Molly nodded back, now looking slightly cheerier. "Yeah they confirmed it."

Rebecca clutched the large glass doors steadying herself.

Why had the police lied? They knew it couldn't have been an accident. It was attempted murder, Lestrade had said that himself.

She trembled slightly, hoping to god that the police were taking it seriously, not just fobbing it off like they usually did.

But suddenly relief washed over her, as the image of Sherlock flooded into her mind. As he had said earlier on the phone, he had his own _ideas_ about who had done it.

At least she could count on him.

She shook herself slightly and moved into the kitchen.

"Tea alright?" she called through to Molly, glancing up.

Molly gave a shy smile. "Yes please," she mumbled, continuing her inspection of the flat from her seat in Sherlock's armchair.

"So didn't you have any other friends you could have stayed with?" asked Molly loudly, causing Rebecca's head to jerk up.

She gulped.

It was true that she didn't have many friends in London. She had studied in Oxford, working too hard for her two degrees and losing friends along the way.

The only friends she did have lived miles away, out of central London. And she only really caught up with them on nights out or trip's to see them.

"Um not really," mumbled the young lawyer. "Sherlock kind of just offered..."

Rebecca reddened, turning her face so that Molly couldn't see.

What the hell was wrong with her today?

"So," said Rebecca changing the subject. "Have you and Jim known each other long?"

Molly's face seemed to light up at the mention of the man's name.

"A few weeks," said the woman chirpily, as Rebecca smiled into the fridge as she closed it. "It was a bit of an office romance. Jim works in IT."

Rebecca nodded. "Oh right. That's nice," lied Rebecca, seriously doubting the integrity of their relationship.

He _had_ just asked Rebecca out after not even a minute of meeting her.

But Rebecca plastered on a fake smile and waltzed into the living room holding the two steaming mugs of tea in her hands.

"Thanks," said Molly gingerly taking one.

"So," said Rebecca cocking an eyebrow at Molly and taking a seat opposite her. "This serious between the two of you then?"

Molly blushed, before answering. "I think it's getting pretty serious," mumbled the girl. "We went on out third date last night. To the cinema, to see that new Scorsese, y'know."

Rebecca grumbled.

Why was it everyone was going to see that film but her?

"Oh right," she said a taking a sip of her hot tea. "But _I_ thought you were into Sherlock?" Rebecca gestured around the room. "You seemed pretty smitten with him back at the lab."

"Yeah well," said Molly, waving her arm. "He's gorgeous and everything but I'm not sure..."

Rebecca's stomach knotted.

"The way he looks at you with those big blue eyes of his..." Molly continued.

Rebecca pictured him, as her heart began to pound.

"And his voice, that commanding tone he uses..." said Molly, day dreamily.

Rebecca could hear it in her head...

Her heart beat in her chest more furiously.

"But the way he talks to me sometimes," said Molly bitterly, snapping Rebecca out of it. "It's like he doesn't even know I'm there..."

Rebecca bit her lip.

"And I can see what he's doing trying to flirt with me...so that I'll let him into the morgue," she snapped. "It makes me feel that small..."

She gestured with her hand.

"...but I fall for it every time," continued Molly. "It's not like the way he is with you..."

Rebecca glanced up startled.

"W-What do you mean?" she stuttered, her face reddening.

"I've seen the way he is with you...he treats you like an equal..." said the girl casually shrugging, before her attention was caught by the skull on the mantelpiece. And the conversation was over.

Rebecca took a long sip of her tea, pondering what Molly had just said.

Maybe Sherlock _did _see her as an equal.

Someone he could trust...

Well he _had _let her stay in his flat, borrow his card, sleep in his bed...

She let out a quiet sigh.

"So what's it like? Living with him?" asked Molly leaning forwards in her seat.

Rebecca bit her lip. "Um, it's nice," she said honestly, "Sherlock and John are...nice."

Molly smiled. "You seem comfortable here."

Rebecca grinned to herself, taking another swig of tea.

"Well," she said shrugging. "I'm used to Sherlock's mood swings by n-"

But Rebecca's sentence was cut short as Molly suddenly gaped and a large shadow appeared on the floor.

Rebecca closed her eyes.

"Hi Sherlock," she said wincing, recognising the tuft of curly hair, silhouetted on the carpet.

She turned her head to see the looming figure of Sherlock standing over her, with John at his side, who was trying not to laugh.

The detective didn't say anything, and merely stared down at her, his eyes piecing into her own.

"Hi Sherlock," came Molly's high pitched voice suddenly, cutting the tension dramatically.

The detective looked over at the mousy haired woman before removing his coat.

"Ah Molly, how nice to see you out of the morgue. The light down there makes you skin look awfully sallow," he muttered flinging is coat over the back of the door, not remarking on Molly's panda-eyes.

Molly smiled nervously.

Rebecca swung around to look at John who had just dumped a large crate onto the kitchen table.

"What's that?" she asked nosily as the blonde man looked up.

"Actually," said John his yes flickering awkwardly towards Sherlock. "It's the...um...well, the things they recovered...from your house."

Rebecca stood up suddenly, as her empty cup crashed down onto the rug and she marched into the kitchen.

Pushing John unceremoniously out of the way she tore open the lid and gazed inside.

A thick black gloop covered most of the items she could see. A photo-frame with a singed photo of Toby present, a teddy-bear she had given to her after she had graduated, a couple of books, a chipped vase and a pair of blackened pumps were all that remained.

Rebecca sighed and clutched the sides of the box and willed herself not to cry.

These were the only things she had left...

29 years of her life and this is all she had.

All those memories...gone...

She let out a whimper and placed a hand to her mouth before backing away from the box.

"I-I need some air," she said with a gulp, avoiding the eyes of the three figures watching her.

And with that she turned on her heel and ran out the door without even a backward glance.

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**Please just look out for alerts...I will update as soon as I can!**

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	18. Chapter 18

**Havent officially got interenet, but I live opposite a college so I gues the perks are having access to the free wi-fi...shhhhhh!**

**Still dont know when I'll be able to update next but soon I hope.**

**Thanks so much to Tracy137, blod1tatws, almightyswot, Unidentifiable Alley-Cat, hallytennant, The Beth midget, algie888, WordsWrittenByHeart, OhTex, synethesiac, wtldr, rawr52, ILoveHLaurie, GracefullyClumsy, Laudine and Look-Me-Up for reviewing the last chapter.**

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Rebecca ran out onto the cold blustery street as the door slammed shut behind her.

A crushing fear and anger overwhelmed her.

She had nothing left.

She had tried to be strong. Tried to not let it get the best of her.

But now, with just a few charred objects left over from the wreckage she realised just how little remained of her past life.

Photographs, diplomas, scarves knitted by far away aunties...they were all gone. Burnt to cinder.

Her most treasured possessions had literally gone up in smoke.

She caught her breath and clutched the railings beside the flat, as tears threatened to consume her.

She trembled and lifted a hand to her mouth trying to stifle a sob.

But suddenly a cool hand touched her shoulder and Rebecca swung around to see Sherlock standing behind her, his face blank and un-faltering.

A whimper suddenly escaped her lips as she stared at the detective, balling her sleeves up in her hands.

"It's all gone..." she said with a quiet sob, as a tear rolled down her pale cheek. "All of it...it's just gone..."

Sherlock looked for a moment as if he wanted to reach out and embrace the trembling woman...but somehow refrained.

Rebecca merely turned on the spot turning her face away as more tears ran down her cheeks.

"I just wish there was something more..." she said with a whisper.

Sherlock cocked his head as the tearful Rebecca rubbed the end of her nose with her sleeve.

"Do you want to go back there?" he asked in a low voice and Rebecca glanced up to look at him.

"Hmmmm?" she said twitching.

"Back to your house?" he said, lowering his chin.

Rebecca sniffed. "I-I don't know...t-there's probably nothing left," she said timidly, looking up at the detective with large watery eyes.

Sherlock stepped forwards, his face serious, but a somewhat caring look appearing in his eyes.

"Do you want to go?" he asked once again, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Rebecca trembled as a worry line appeared on her brow. "M-Molly said that they confirmed it was a gas explosion. The police lied..." she stuttered.

Sherlock eyes suddenly pierced Rebecca's own, his voice low and serious. "Whatever the police have said, both Lestrade and I know that it's not true...we're working on it..._I'm _working on it."

Rebecca gazed up at him, still trembling.

It did comfort her to know that Sherlock was working on her case. Trying to catch the person who did this...even if the police had given up.

"Now shall we go?" said Sherlock, swooping past her and hailing a nearby cab which promptly pulled up beside them on the pavement.

But the detective turned around to find Rebecca still rooted to the spot, her eyes sad and her body hunched.

Sherlock turned and marched towards her, stopping just in front of her nervous form.

He held out a hand.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice low and engaging, his eyes boring into hers.

Rebecca quivered staring at this strange and impossible man...

She paused for several moments, pondering the detective's question.

But she already knew the answer...

And slowly and gingerly she reached out and grasped Sherlock's outstretched hand as his slender fingers enclosed around her own.

His mouth curved up into a dark grin. "Shall we," he uttered, leading Rebecca towards the taxi and opening the door for her to hop inside.

The young lawyer wiped her face with her free hand and stepped into the warm taxi. Sherlock's hand still tightly gripping her own.

...

In the cab the couple sat close.

Rebecca's trembling body huddled up the detective's warm one.

Neither of them said a word, both sitting in utter silence listening to the sounds of London.

But between them, their hands remained carelessly clasped.

Thirty minutes later the black cab pulled up to Rebecca's old street, and the blackened form of her old house became clearer and clearer as they drew closer.

The young lawyer tensed beside Sherlock.

The grip of his hand on hers, suddenly tightened in a reassuring gesture.

Rebecca whimpered as the cab came to a slow rolling halt.

She didn't move as Sherlock leant forwards to pay the driver with a large note.

It was only when he opened the door and pulled the apprehensive young woman out after him did she move.

Her eyes widened as she stepped out and stared up at what was left of her charred house. Police tape still surrounded the area, gently fluttering the cool evening wind.

Rebecca shuddered, taking a step closer to the tall detective.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a deep voice, looking at Rebecca from the corner of his eyes.

She nodded, suddenly pulling away from him. Their clasped hands finally breaking their bond.

Slowly and carefully she began to pick her way across the wreckage as Sherlock followed behind.

She was glad he didn't warn her to 'be careful'. If he had she probably would have snapped. But this man knew her better than that...

Rebecca finally stopped when she got to the blacked brickwork of what remained of her house and stared inside the wreckage.

The far wall of her lounge could just be made out, but her modern wallpaper was now just a smudge of blackness and her staircase hung loosely from the wall.

A tear slowly rolled down her cheek.

Nothing remained.

Any hope of finding anything the police hadn't was impossible.

Everything that remained seemed to be covered in a thick black gloop that smelled strongly of smoke.

She turned around looking for the detective, expecting the man to be behind her but he wasn't.

"Sherlock?" she called in a panicked voice and it was a moment before she got a reply.

"Over here," came a calm shout.

Rebecca ran around her house to the rear where the kitchen used to be. The extent of the damage here was much worse.

She looked to see detective crouched down on the ground examining the grassy area beneath his feet.

"Was this your back garden?" he asked glancing up at her as she approached.

Rebecca nodded. "Y-Yes, it was only small," she muttered. "Why?"

The detective stood, stepping towards Rebecca. "Footprints," he said pointing.

Rebecca stared at him wide eyed for a moment before gazing down at the patch of earth.

"S-So someone was here? In my back garden?" she said with a shiver. "B-But that could have been the police..."

Sherlock slowly shook his head. "The police? No. This person was much more light-footed. Careful on their feet. Shoes, elegant. Size fives."

Rebecca stared at the detective, unable to believe her ears. This man was more capable of deducting that the entire police squad were.

"S-So what does that mean?" she asked carefully as Sherlock turned towards her.

His eyes glinting in the twilight as face curved into a grimace.

"It was a woman..."

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	19. Chapter 19

**Sorry for the delay. Still no internet.**

**Hope you guys are still interested.**

**Thanks so much to all who have reviewed and who are still reading. Thanks to GracefullyClumsy, Lady-Gummy-Bears, ScreamsOnScreen, MyPartnerInCrime, Leila, Gublerite13, Laudine, fruitcakegirl, OhTex, ILoveHLaurie, blod1tatws, Unidentifiable Alley-Cat, Look-Me-Up, Tracy137, The Beth midget, WordsWrittenByHeart, wtldr, daftrosh and algie888.**

**I will try to update as soon as I can.**

**Please bear with me.**

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"A woman?" repeated Rebecca, as Sherlock dashed past her, extracting his phone from his pocket as he did so. "Are you sure?"

Sherlock glanced up. "Certain," he muttered darkly, as he gestured for the young lawyer to follow him.

"W-Who are you texting?" asked Rebecca falling into step with the dark-haired man as the pair made their way up the gloomy street.

"Lestrade," he said with a frown. "He said to let him know of any leads he might have."

Rebecca bit her lip. "So the police haven't given up then? They're still on the case?"

Sherlock suddenly stopped in his tracks and looked over to Rebecca. "Not exactly," he murmured. "The police seem to think it isn't a case worth investigating. They seem to think a gas leak is probable. But I, ahem, managed to convince Lestrade otherwise. He's keeping an eye out."

Rebecca trembled. "So a woman? She asked after a moment. "Who do you think she is?"

Sherlock shook his head, continuing to walk down the virtually empty street. "Haven't got a clue," he said with a twitching grin. "Exciting isn't it?"

Rebecca scowled, before catching up with him. "Exciting?" she shouted. "God, you really are a madman aren't you?"

She shook her head angrily as Sherlock stared at her, grinning.

"Oh don't deny that you find it exhilarating," he pressed, replacing his mobile back into his jacket pocket.

Rebecca rolled her eyes, but deep down she knew that the detective was right.

She just bit her lip before glancing at the cocky man to her left.

She couldn't help but smile and a gentle laugh escaped her lips.

"Shut up," she smirked, nudging Sherlock as he chuckled back.

* * *

"Where the hell did you two get to?" said John as Sherlock and Rebecca finally arrived back at 221b thirty minutes later.

"Problem?" said Sherlock nonchalantly, as he waltzed into the kitchen.

Rebecca cooed at her little dog Toby as he ran towards her excitedly.

"There is as a matter of fact," said John, his teeth gritted. "Do you know how annoying that Molly woman is? Took me twenty minutes to get her out of here. She would _not_ stop talking about this Jim guy she'd just met."

"Tell me about it," grinned Rebecca, shaking her head.

Sherlock sauntered back into the room typing away furiously on his phone.

"I need you to come with me to Barts tomorrow morning," said the detective glancing up at John. "There's something I need to do."

John frowned. "Cant," he said simply, flinging himself down into his armchair.

Sherlock looked up affronted. "What do you mean cant?" he asked scandalised.

"I can't Sherlock," said John with a sigh. "I'm working the early shift again."

Rebecca watched the two laughing, until she realised Sherlock's eyes had now come to rest upon her.

She glanced up at him and gulped.

"No Sherlock! No way!" she said, her face becoming serious. "You know how much I hate that place."

She shuddered as Sherlock looked on annoyed.

John's mouth curved into a grin. "Cant you just go on your own?" he asked chewing his lip.

Sherlock scowled. "I'd prefer to have company," he muttered, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets.

Rebecca glanced at the pouting detective and stifled a pitying laugh.

He was so cute when he didn't get his own way, she thought...

Wait.

What?

She hadn't seriously just thought that had she?

Suddenly feeling rather disgusted and confused with herself Rebecca moved over to the table where her abandoned shopping bags still lay.

She rifled through until she found her brand new coat. Removing the tags and flinging it on, she turned to the two men.

"How about I make us some dinner," she said unfurling her long hair from her coat collar. "You know, to say thanks for having me."

John smiled. "That would be great, but there's no need to do that..." he said sweetly.

But Rebecca shook her head. "As long as you're happy with Bolognese, then I'd love to cook for the both of you," said Rebecca cheerily as she made her way to the door.

"And besides she needs a way of earning her keep," said Sherlock snidely, flashing a look in Rebecca's direction.

The young lawyer grinned back.

"Of course," she said teasingly. "And, oh, I've just remembered, I still have your card Sherlock."

And with that she pulled the credit card from her pocket with a flourish.

"I guess supper's on you," she laughed devilishly. "Back in five."

And with that Rebecca sauntered out of the room, with John belly laughing in his chair.

And not even Sherlock could deny himself a smile.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Rebecca was stood in the kitchen, helping John with the last of the washing up.

Sherlock was, as usual, being no help at all, sitting at his laptop.

The same couldn't be said however for his attitude when Rebecca had been cooking their meal, preferring to linger over her shoulder, offering _helpful_ tips on the optimum water temperature for cooking spaghetti. She had endured it for ten minutes before finally ushering him angrily out of the kitchen and shutting the sliding doors with a snap.

"So are you planning another date with Sarah anytime soon?" asked Rebecca placing the last plate into the drainer.

John smiled coyly. "Not sure. The last date went really well, the film was great, I just couldn't believe the ending..."

"Ooooh don't spoil it," said Rebecca quickly, mock-covering her ears with a tea towel as John chuckled.

"Don't worry I wont," said the doctor with a grin.

Several minutes later the pair had placed away the last of the crockery and made their way into the living room.

Sherlock had retreated to his bedroom, muttering something about updating his website.

The detective had finally caved in letting Rebecca sleep on the sofa, in a long and tiresome argument on their way back to 221b.

The pair were definitely as stubborn as each other.

Rebecca now flopped down onto the sofa as John lingered in the doorway.

"Now are you sure you're going to be okay in here?" he asked concernedly.

Rebecca smiled. "Yes, of course John, now go to bed."

John looked at her seriously, "Okay, but shout if you need anything," he said seriously.

Rebecca smiled, fluffing the cushion behind her. "Will do."

* * *

The hours and minutes ticked by.

Rebecca couldn't sleep.

She had lain awake, tossing and turning.

Her mind unwilling to switch off.

It was almost 2.30 when Rebecca finally got up to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen.

Something stronger if she could get it.

As she opened the door to the kitchen, Toby yelped quietly in his sleep.

Padding across the kitchen as quietly as she could Rebecca stopped at the sink and let out a sigh.

Was this her life now? Just being a guest in someone else's house forever?

She rubbed her tired face with her hand and leaned back against the metal drainer.

As she did so something caught her eye.

A small crack of light that flooded out from beneath the door to Sherlock's bedroom.

He was awake.

Biting her lip, she made up her mind.

Slowly and quietly she made her way across the room and rapped gently upon the door.

There was a pause before she heard Sherlock's low voice.

"Come in."

Rebecca's heart pounded.

With a creak she opened the door and glanced into the softly lit room to see Sherlock sitting fully clothed on his bed, his laptop propped up on his knees.

He frowned when he saw Rebecca's huddled form.

"Rebecca? What are you doing up?" he asked his voice crisp.

Rebecca lingered in the doorway. She shrugged her shoulders.

"Couldn't sleep," she said quietly. "I was just getting a glass of water when I saw that your light was still on."

The detective nodded, still eyeing the young lawyer suspiciously.

"I was just doing some research," he muttered, swivelling the laptop towards her so that she could see. "One of Mycroft's cases..."

Rebecca chewed her lip and raised her eyebrows as she saw a large diamond sitting in the image on the screen.

"Looks exciting," she said with a smile, stepping further into the room.

"As a matter of fact, it is extremely dull," shrugged the dark-haired man, pulling the computer back towards him. "Unlike your case."

Rebecca frowned coming to perch on the end of Sherlock's bed. "Shut up," she said sharply. "My house got blown up and all you can think of is how exciting it is as a case?"

"Yes," he muttered bluntly, his eyes focused on the screen before him.

Rebecca gritted her teeth. "Ugh, you're so despicable sometimes do you know that?"

And with that she picked up a discarded pillow and threw it at him.

It narrowly missed the detective, glancing off his ear, but nevertheless, Sherlock looked scandalised.

"And you're immature," he said with a scowl.

Rebecca couldn't help but laugh, as she sat up further on the bed.

"So what are you going to Barts for tomorrow?" she asked leaning back across the lower half of the bed.

He looked at her with a frown. "Like sticking your nose into people's business Miss Francis?" said the detective with a growl.

Rebecca rolled her eyes before glancing over at him.

"Research," he finally answered after a moment.

Rebecca's heart pounded. "O-On Mycroft's case or..."

"Yours," answered Sherlock instantly his eyes lingering on Rebecca's face.

Their eyes met, just for an instant.

Rebecca's breath caught in her throat.

She quickly looked away, shuffling further up the bed and reaching for the pillow she had only recently used as a weapon and shoving it beneath her head.

There was a long moment of silence whilst neither of them said a word...

It took the young lawyer a lot of courage to come out with her next sentence...

"Thank you," she whispered after a beat. "For everything."

Sherlock froze, his eyes drawn to Rebecca.

He gave a hard gulp, but found that his throat was dry and words unable to escape his lips.

Rebecca couldn't help but smile as she looked at this strange and impossible man.

She blushed and turned onto her side, letting out a yawn.

"Tired?" he asked in a low voice.

Rebecca sighed and nodded allowing her eyes to close.

There was a lengthy pause before Sherlock spoke again.

"And there was you fighting me for the couch," he muttered teasingly.

And though Rebecca's eyes were shut she could still feel his gaze upon her.

She smiled into the musky pillow.

"I lied," she whispered, before drifting slowly off into a deep and comfortable sleep as Sherlock watched over her.

* * *

**Fluff central I know, don't hate me for it. More drama coming soon!**

**Please review!**


	20. Chapter 20

**Thanks to all who have reviewed so far. I hope you guys like this chapter. **

**Thanks to Marinus-pseudothyrum, synethesiac, The Beth midget, MyPartnerInCrime, ILoveHLaurie, Leila, OhTex, izzie22, Unidentifiable Alley-Cat, GracefullyClumsy, Trinity2001, Starrycat05, Lady-Gummy-Bears, blod1tatws, wtldr, Laudine, xxkissesandcuddlesxx and Look-Me-Up.**

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Rebecca's eyes fluttered open as she heard a door snap shut.

It was a moment before she finally got her bearings.

She was in Sherlock's bed.

Alone.

Soft sheets gently draped over her and a pillow tucked beneath her flowing hair.

With a wide yawn she turned over to find the right hand side of the bed empty, though the covers were ever so slightly rumpled.

She sighed and reached a hand out to touch the white sheets beside her.

They were still warm.

* * *

Sherlock checked his watch.

10.30.

He had spent the last couple of hours in the lab at St Barts.

He had slept in the same vicinity as Rebecca for a second night. Not that that was a bad thing.

But the detective was indeed a little confused.

He and Rebecca...it had always been a complex relationship...

But he was married to his work.

He had no time for idle relationships...

Right?

Sliding down onto a stool, he sat with his head in his hands.

He had no idea what to do? Both in terms of his Rebecca and her case.

It was indeed a difficult one to solve.

Whoever had done this had been very careful. Very clever.

Initially Sherlock had reckoned it had something to do with the fabled Moriarty, but now he wasn't so sure.

All clues led to it being a woman.

"A woman?" said Sherlock aloud running his hands through his dark hair in frustration.. "Who the hell are you?"

Sherlock had barely finished his sentence before a seductive voice filled the room.

"I do believe you may be looking for me Mr Holmes."

* * *

Rebecca walked out of the police station, her new cash cards and ID safe inside her handbag.

The police had arranged for all documents to go through them and for that Rebecca was relieved. Toby would have only chewed up any letters that would have arrived for her at 221b.

Feeling in a good mood the young lawyer strolled into the main high street, and paused outside an estate agents.

"Rooms to rent," she muttered under her breath as her eyes trawled across the dingy window supplements.

One bedroom flats...house shares...bedsits...

Nothing seemed appealing.

After spending the past few days with Sherlock and John going back to living alone with just Toby for company seemed almost unimaginable.

She continued to stare hard at all the individual house offers placed in the chic window.

Her concentration was only shattered when a face appeared on the other side of the glass.

It was a man, a little older than Rebecca with short blonde hair and a charming smile.

He grinned at Rebecca's look of fright, before popping his head around the door.

"Hi, I'm Andy," he said with cheerily. "Were you looking for anything in particular?"

Rebecca glanced down at his name-tag and stylish suit before answering.

"No, not really," she said politely. "Just browsing."

The man's smile didn't falter. "It's hard isn't it? Deciding on a new place," he said sweetly.

Rebecca shrugged. "I'm just in between options at the moment," she muttered, as the man stepped out of the estate agents and came to stand next to her.

"Oh right," he said nodding understandingly, before glancing back into the shop. "Well if I were you, I'd try Property Prospects down the road...much cheaper."

Rebecca glanced up at him and frowned. "Aren't you supposed to be selling houses for this place?" she said nodding towards the window.

The man grinned at Rebecca. "Well I see all these rich city types pass through here every day. They look like they deserve to be duped," he said biting his lip. "But I can't do that to you."

Rebecca smiled and shook her head. "Why not? I could be a rich city type for all you know?"

Andy grinned back. "Nah," he said cheerily. "You seem much too nice."

Rebecca grinned. "Well you might be mistaken," she said raising her eyebrows. "Is it worth losing you commission for?"

The man laughed rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "Maybe."

Rebecca smiled and chewed her lip. "Well how about we make a deal. You show me some genuinely nice and reasonably priced flats and maybe you'll get your commission after all."

Andy offered Rebecca his hand. "It's a deal," he said with a large grin.

* * *

Sherlock swung around coming face to face with the source of the voice.

He was met with a woman in her early thirties.

She had sleek dark hair set in waves, framing her pale face perfectly.

She was dressed in a chic black Armani suit buttoned down to the chest. With tall black stilettos and red painted nails.

Her eyes were large and catlike and her lips stained red to match her nails.

She stared at Sherlock, a sultry smile crossing her lips.

"It's so wonderful to meet you at last," she said in a seductive voice, as she strutted into the room, one hand shoved in her trouser pocket. "I have heard _so_ much about you."

The detective got to his feet quickly facing the new arrival.

"Well aren't I the popular one," said Sherlock smoothly.

His eyes fell over the woman before him but for once he found it difficult to deduct much from her.

It was as if she was hidden behind a veil.

A mystery.

This intrigued the detective so much so that he almost stepped forwards as if drawn in by this mystery woman.

But she had hurt Rebecca. Tried to kill her...

Surely no one who was responsible for that would be worth his interest.

* * *

Rebecca and Andy ran down the street clutching their sides with laughter.

"Okay, I admit I knew that the area was a little rough," said Andy through chuckles and both came to a standstill on the edge of the pavement.

Rebecca let out a laugh. "A little rough?" she said raising her eyebrows. "Their dog just chased us for the last half a mile."

"Well they obviously aren't looking forwards to moving out," said Andy resting his hands on his knees, finally catching his breath. "Maybe you'll have to wait a while to get your hands on that gem of a flat."

Rebecca stood up straight. "Aw what a pity," she said sarcastically, letting a final laugh escape her lips.

Andy got to his feet properly before turning to Rebecca and scratching his chin.

"Listen," he said after a few moments. "I get off in an hour. You don't fancy going for some food or perhaps to see a movie do you? I mean, I know it's a bit forwards, just thought you might fancy it?"

Rebecca chewed her lip. "I don't know..." she mumbled.

"No worries," said Andy raising his arms in defeat. "I get it...we've only just met..."

"No it's not that," said Rebecca scuffing her feet on the pavement. An image of Sherlock appearing in her head. "It's just that...well, there's this guy..."

"Oh," said Andy knowingly, looking a little disappointed.

Rebecca looked up at him.

Why was she brushing this guy off for Sherlock? She didn't even like the detective in that way? Did she?

"What film is it?" she asked casually, gazing over at the blonde man.

His mouth curved up into a smile.

"That new Scorsese," he said cheerily. "You up for it?"

Rebecca grinned. "Yeah...that would be great," she said nervously.

"Great. Pick you up at 7 then?" he said with a dazzling smile, as Rebecca began to walk away, ready to hail a cab.

"221b Baker Street," chimed Rebecca turning on her heel and strutting down the pavement. "I look forward to it.

And she did. This wasn't a lie...

Why then could she not get the face of Sherlock Holmes out of her head?

* * *

"So," said Sherlock crossing his arms over himself. "You were the person who blew up Rebecca's house?"

The woman smiled. "Ah, Miss Francis. Your_ friend_," said the woman, licking her lips. "I can't deny that I wasn't involved in some way Mr Holmes, but that doesn't mean I was responsible."

Sherlock gazed at this woman darkly as she strutted forwards, her high heels click-clacking upon the marble flooring.

"In what way were you involved?" he asked sharply, as the woman merely grinned.

She ran her red taloned nails along the desk beside her as she walked. "Like you Mr Holmes, I am also interested in both the mystery and intelligence of a criminal. And I believe that both of us have been enticed by the acts of the legendary Mr Moriarty."

Sherlock frowned as the woman walked towards him. "Who are you?" he asked commandingly.

The woman smiled. "I'm like you Mr Holmes. I can see things that others can't. I can tell things about your past just by looking at you. I'm a sociopath of the worst kind...just like you."

"You're not like me," he uttered in a low voice staring at this arrogant woman.

"I know that you are bitter and alone," said the raven haired woman quickly. "I know that the only people who care about you are your brother, your flatmate and your lawyer. But you're desperate for more...you need someone of intelligence, someone to match you."

A sudden image of Rebecca fluttered into Sherlock's peripheral vision.

"You may think that Miss Francis is that person but you'd be wrong..." murmured the woman batting her eyelids, reading the detective like a book. "You need someone strong, someone whose mind is clear and free from emotions. Someone...just...like...me."

The detective frowned. "You?" he said darkly. "I don't even know who you are."

A melodic laugh suddenly escaped the woman's lips. "We are more alike than you would probably care to imagine..." she said in a whisper, drawing close to Sherlock.

The detective didn't dare move as the woman crept closer to him, brushing her long slender fingertips down the lapels of his suit.

"Who are you?" uttered the detective uncomfortably, as her face drew nearer to his.

She gazed up into his eyes for a moment, before leaning over, her lips brushing his cheek.

"My name, Mr Holmes," she uttered in a low voice, "is Irene Adler."

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**Please review!**


	21. Chapter 21

**Thanks so much to almightyswot, Leila, Laudine, music-loving-penguin, Tracy137, ILoveHLaurie, WordsWrittenByHeart, blod1tatws, ScreamsOnScreen, starbrightnights, MyPartnerInCrime, daftrosh, OhTex, wtldr, inkpot101, Rhea Bleu for reviewing. (So sorry if I've missed anyone this chapter, laptop's being iffy)**

**Thanks so much for reading...**

* * *

Sherlock backed up, pulling away from the raven haired woman as her rouge lips bushed his cheek.

"Adler?" he said darkly, scrutinising the woman. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

Irene grinned and turned away leaning back against the workbench behind her.

"Oh no Mr Holmes," she said in a sultry voice. "I'm merely here to tell you that we have something in common. A mutual enemy."

"Moriarty?" said Sherlock with a frown.

"Yes, the elusive Mr Moriarty," said Irene tapping her lengthy fingernails on the desk beside her. "I believe that he is responsible for recent,_ ahem..._ detonations, shall we say."

Sherlock's face at once became a deep scowl. "Detonations?" he said raising his voice. "Rebecca could have been killed!"

But the detective's fierceness faltered at once as a high-pitched laugh escaped Irene's painted lips

"Ahhh, I wasn't aware that you had such feelings for Miss Francis," said the woman, cocking an eyebrow. "That is an..._interesting_ development."

Sherlock backed up a little, crossing his arms across his suited chest defensively. "I don't have ...feelings...she is just my..."

"Friend?" offered Irene quickly, as Sherlock seethed. "I was aware that the pair of you had grown close, but..."

"We're not close," lied Sherlock. "Rebecca is an acquaintance. She works for me. That's all."

He knew it was lie. He was sure that his feeling for the young lawyer had grown over the past week or so. The threat of John's presence, as well as her introduction to his home had caused feelings he had never been aware of before to bubble up inside him. Like a cancer of sorts.

Irene stepped forwards suddenly, until her body was mere inches away from him.

"Well Mr Holmes, as long as you're sure," she uttered in a seductive voice. "These ties to Miss Francis are no good for you. You are a genius. A higher level being to most. You deserve much more than a _lawyer_. Cutting off ties with her is the best thing for you to do. No more distractions."

Sherlock visibly gulped.

"There is no point in delving into idle relationships, playing games which rot the mind. You need to be stimulated. You need excitement," she said, her hand gently brushing his collar. "Which is something I can provide."

Sherlock gazed down at this woman for a moment. Her dark eyes burning into his.

He was almost lost. Trapped within her enticing gaze...

Before he suddenly pulled away from her tender grasp, striding across to the door on the other side of the room.

"Why so shy Mr Holmes?" said Irene flashing him as grin as he turned back to face her.

The detective did not reply.

He merely stood in the doorway, head bowed, mulling over Irene's words.

"Well," she said quickly, examining her nails. "I will be in contact soon. I have much more to discuss with you about the fabled Moriarty and his whereabouts."

Sherlock pursed his lips together, a crease appearing between his brow before turning away and heading out of the room.

"Just remember what I said Mr Holmes, stop with this idle relationship with Miss Francis. She is not what you really want," shouted Irene, calling after him.

Sherlock exited into the corridor as the door swung shut behind him, blocking out Irene, and yet leaving her words still ringing in his head.

* * *

Rebecca slammed the front door shut and ran up the stairs towards the flat two at a time, a big smile plastered on her face.

She pushed open the door to the living room to find Sherlock sat at the table facing away from her and John pottering about in the kitchen.

It was only the latter that looked up as she walked in.

John gave her a look, cocking his head at her. "You look happy. Good day?"

Rebecca bit her lip and removed her coat, flinging it over the back of the couch.

"Actually yes," she said with a coy smile. "I'm off to see a film tonight."

Suddenly from the other side of the room, Sherlock noticeably stiffened.

John grinned. "Oh right, with anyone special?" he asked with a cheeky tone.

Rebecca tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, glancing over at Sherlock nervously for a moment before answering. "Oh just Andy...a guy I met...he's picking me up in about half an hour actually. Mind if I take a shower?"

John smiled widely, nodding at her, impressed. "Yeah sure. What are you going to see?"

Rebecca grinned, tossing off her cardigan and moving into the kitchen. "That new Scorsese..."

* * *

Exactly 30 minutes later Rebecca reappeared having showered and changed.

Her long hair was now swept up into a loose bun and she wore a purple dress over jeans and heels.

She looked casual yet pretty with a slick of mascara and a dab of blusher lingering on her face.

"You look nice," said John, looking up at her from over his newspaper.

Rebecca bit her lip, placing a studded earring into the earlobe. She was about to thank him for his compliment when Sherlock's voice suddenly cut across her.

"Bit overdressed for the cinema aren't we?" he said in a poisonous voice, lying back on the couch.

Rebecca reddened, glancing at her reflection in the mirror above the mantelpiece.

John immediately frowned in Sherlock's direction.

What had gotten into the detective today? He had arrived back an hour ago in a worse huff that John had ever seen him in and had not said a word since Rebecca had gotten back.

"Ignore him," said John soothingly. "You look lovely."

Rebecca scratched her head nervously. "Perhaps I should lose the dress..." she mumbled making to head back into the bathroom.

But before she could even move the doorbell rang.

The young lawyer turned on her heel.

"I think that's him," she said quietly, glancing uneasy in the direction of the pouting Sherlock.

A moment later the trilling voice of Mrs Hudson had filled the downstairs hallway, and it was only a minute more before a man's head appeared around the living room door.

"Hi," said the man, John presumed was Rebecca's date Andy, entering the room, a huge smile upon his face.

"Hi Andy," said Rebecca shyly moving forwards, though neither of them made any motion to embrace or kiss.

She glanced back at both John and Sherlock.

"This is John Watson," she said biting her lip and gesturing to where John sat.

"Alright mate," stuttered Andy in a polite voice as John nodded back.

"And this," said Rebecca with distant look in her eyes, "is Sherlock Holmes."

John glanced quickly in Sherlock's direction but the detective didn't say anything. In fact he completely ignored both Rebecca and Andy, choosing instead to stare directly up at the ceiling.

Andy coughed uncomfortably as an awkward silence filled the room.

"Right then," he muttered, clapping his hands together. "You ready to go?"

He looked at Rebecca who had her eyes locked upon Sherlock. She glanced up quickly.

"Um yeah sure, what time does the film start?" she said grabbing her coat from behind Sherlock attempting to catch his eye as she did so.

"Um, 8 I think," said the tall blonde man, lingering at the door.

"Well I dare say it would be a crime to be late for something as imaginative as a date to the cinema," said Sherlock in a sudden snide voice.

Rebecca turned and glanced uneasily at the detective. "I-It's not a date..." she muttered quickly, before immediately realising her mistake.

It would have been an understatement to have said that Andy looked downcast. More heartbroken to say the truth.

"Well whatever it is," said Sherlock, his eyes never leaving the ceiling. "I'm sure you'll have a delightfully dull time."

Rebecca looked daggers at the detective, angry tears welling up in her eyes.

Andy huffed, before turning moodily on his heel and heading out of the room. "We'd better be off," he said sulkily.

But Rebecca's eyes never left Sherlock, her fists balling furiously at her sides.

She suddenly noticed something.

"Well I'm sorry my life is too dull for you to ever bare listening to," she said with a sad look. "Perhaps your girlfriend's evening will be much more eventful."

John glanced up from him newspaper. "Sherlock? A girlfriend?" he said frowning.

Rebecca quickly turned on her heel, glancing back over her shoulder at the detective one last time. "You have lipstick on your collar."

John's eyes widened as he looked at the detective and sure enough, there it was. A smudge of red lining the peak of his collar.

But Sherlock hadn't moved.

He hadn't even reacted.

In fact he barely blinked an eye, merely staring at the spot Rebecca had just vacated, as the front door slammed loudly.

* * *

**Next chapter- Tensions run high.**

**Please review!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Thanks so much to all who have reviewed- Unidentifiable Alley-Cat, almightyswot, Gublerite13, Trinity2001, Amaris, Laudine, ilikepie, meggieleigh, OhTex, WordsWrittenByHeart, GracefullyClumsy, ILoveHLaurie, Vilentiel, Marinus-pseudothyrum, rhea lupin, MyPartnerInCrime, wtldr, starbrightnights, ScreamsOnScreen and Lady-Gummy-Bears.**

**Thanks so much to you all!**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter...**

**

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John jolted awake, as sounds from below caused him to stir.

Opening a bleary eye, the doctor groaned as he saw the time written in bright red letters on his alarm clock beside him.

1.30 am

He had an early start the next morning and had headed off to bed just after ten, hoping to get the shut eye he desperately needed.

He was now being torn away from his dreams by a loud shouting coming from somewhere in the living room below.

Opening his eyes wide in alarm, his initial thoughts going straight to intruders, the doctor sat bolt upright, his heart pounding.

It took only a few seconds for the familiar voices to become clear to him.

Tearing the bed sheets off himself, he flung on his dressing gown and hurled open the door.

As he ran down the stairs taking two steps at a time, the voices of his two friends became louder and louder.

"You ruined everything! My whole evening!" came Rebecca's upset voice, as John reached the door.

He flung it open to see the young lawyer standing in the centre of the room. Her once pretty bun had fallen loose at the nape of her neck and her face was streaked with tears.

She stood shouting at Sherlock who was positioned only a few feet away, standing with a deep scowl plastered onto his face.

"Perhaps it was your extremely dull date that ruined things," spat the detective, folding his arms across his chest.

Neither had noticed John enter the room. He simply stood back in the shadows watching the scene before him unfold.

"What is your problem!" shrieked Rebecca. "I go out to watch one film. And you won't even let me have that!"

"Perhaps it was the company you kept that was the problem," said Sherlock frowning and turning his back to the upset girl.

John stared at the two. What had happened? Tensions were indeed running high between the pair. He had the faintest idea why...

"Andy was nice..." said Rebecca a little unconvincingly.

"And you just pick men up off the street do you?" snapped Sherlock staring into the roaring fire in the grate close to his feet.

Rebecca took a sudden step forwards. "Oh, is that what you think of me? Some cheap tart..." she said, tears running down her cheeks.

Sherlock suddenly turned to look at her, looking as if he regretted his previous statement, but still said nothing.

Rebecca chewed her lips and tore her eyes away, instead staring at the sofa, where Toby lay curled in a ball, gazing up at the pair a little frightened.

"And what about you?" snapped Rebecca suddenly. "I saw the lipstick on your collar..."

"It was nothing," said Sherlock immediately, staring over at Rebecca with a warning look.

"Nothing?" said Rebecca a little jealously. "What, a woman leaves lipstick on your collar and you expect me to believe that it was nothing?"

"What business is it of yours?" said Sherlock turning to face her fully, taking a step towards the weeping woman.

Rebecca gaped. "W-What business is it of mine? So I guess its okay for you to interfere in my life, but when it comes to yours I'm not even allowed to ask questions?" she said furiously.

"Fine," said Sherlock drawing closer to Rebecca, a dark hint of something in his voice. "Ask away."

Rebecca looked a little startled, blinking tears from her eyes.

"Fine, who was she...this woman?" Have you known her long?" asked Rebecca snidely. "Or was she just someone you picked up off the street?"

She glared at Sherlock accusingly, as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared back at her with a dark frown.

"She was no one," said Sherlock quietly staring into Rebecca's eyes.

The young lawyer let out a chillingly fake laugh. "You really expect me to believe that? That someone of no importance would have gotten _that_ close to you...close enough to..."

But she couldn't finish her sentence. Instead blinking painful tears from her eyes.

Sherlock didn't say anything.

"Just be honest with me Sherlock. Who was she?" she said in a raised voice. "Don't you at least owe me that?"

The detective titled his head, keeping his chin bowed but his eyes lingering on her face.

"She came to Barts today, to see me..." he uttered in a low voice.

"Was it Molly?" began Rebecca, frowning.

"No," said Sherlock quickly, though the next sentence he chose with great care. "It was concerning your case."

Rebecca's face remained blank for a moment or two before her eyes suddenly widened into great orbs.

"M-My case?" she stuttered, a look of realisation washing over her.

Sherlock stared at her with a warning look, as Rebecca stepped back violently, shaking her head.

"Y-You mean..." said the young lawyer, angry tears spilling from her eyes. "S-She's the w-woman?"

Sherlock bowed his head his eyes still locked onto Rebecca's.

"S-So you've seen her?" she said in a hurt voice. "The woman who did this to me. The person who ruined my life? A-And you're not doing anything about it...you're just..."

But she couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

"She wasn't the one responsible," said the detective darkly.

"And you know this how?" shouted Rebecca loudly taking another step back.

"I trust that she is telling the truth," he uttered, standing still as a statue.

"You trust her? You've only just met her!" screamed Rebecca pointing an accusing finger. "She did all this to me and you've been doing god knows what with her..."

"I didn't-" began Sherlock but Rebecca cut across him loudly.

"You've got lipstick on your collar, Sherlock!" she said, angry tears pouring from her eyes.

She turned away from him, emotions running high within her.

The detective said nothing.

She glanced back at him, over her shoulder.

"I thought we we're..."

"What?" snapped Sherlock suddenly, his eyes dark.

Rebecca, let a single tear pour from her eye. "Well I guess I was wrong," she said sadly, turning away once again.

It was a moment before she continued.

"At least now I realise how much of a self-centred, selfish excuse for a human-being you really are," she said crisply, though John could hear her voice breaking.

Sherlock glared daggers at the back of Rebecca's head before storming past her into the kitchen, heading towards his bedroom.

"Well then I guess there is no need for pathetic familiarities between us any longer," said Sherlock, before slamming the bedroom door behind him.

A long moment passed as the door slam still reverberated across the room.

A second later, Rebecca let out a sudden whimper and clutched a hand to her mouth. John could see her visibly trembling.

As gentle tears streamed down her face, she slumped down onto the sofa behind her, head held in her hands.

Knowing that it wasn't his place to interfere, John crept quietly back upstairs and shut his door with a silent snap, leaving the young lawyer alone with her thoughts. Her muffled sobs ringing out into the night.

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	23. Chapter 23

**Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. TheDoctorsMistress, LiLiAnKa, everythingchanges, GracefullyClumsy, Tracy137, meggieleigh, Laudine, ILoveHLaurie, starbrightnights, WordsWrittenByHeart, blod1tatws, OhTex, ScreamsOnScreen, Look-Me-Up, ALICExRxH, Vilentiel, almightyswot, Lady-Gummy-Bears, wtldr. **

**Hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a bit of a filler. **

* * *

Sherlock opened an eye as his phone buzzed loudly on his bedside table.

He groaned, and rubbed at his head before peering around blearily.

It was a long moment before a recollection of last night's events came to him and a low rumbling returned to the pit of his stomach.

A feeling of guilt...

And regret...

And a new feeling that the detective had never come across before. A feeling that was tearing him apart from the inside.

Reaching for his phone, he lifted it to his sleepy face and stared at the screen before him.

_Meet at the coffee shop at the corner of Cleveland Street, Marylebone at 10.45._

_I have some information you might be interested in._

_IA_

Sherlock stared hard at the message before letting out a long sigh and closing his eyes once again.

Knowing intrigue would get the better of him sooner than sleep would.

* * *

Rebecca shifted abruptly in her sleep as a cold draft hit her directly in the face.

Mere moments later, the sound of the front door slamming tugged her from her dream world and back into reality.

And it was not a happy reality at that.

Rebecca rubbed her puffy eyes with her hands.

She had fallen asleep crying in the early hours of the morning.

Her heart broken.

Letting a single teardrop fall onto the pillow beneath her, Rebecca flipped over and attempted to drift back off into an uncomfortable sleep.

* * *

It was 10.45 and Sherlock Holmes stepped over the threshold of Ishta's Cafe on the corner of Cleveland Street, his eyes darting this way and that.

Before he could even take in the fact that Irene Adler was nowhere to be seen, a smooth voice appeared just over his shoulder.

"I like a man who knows how to be prompt," came the slick voice of Irene as Sherlock swung around to face her.

Sherlock didn't rise to her comment, instead staring down his nose at her, not in the mood for any smart remarks.

"You said you had information for me," snapped Sherlock with a dark frown, his eyes lingering on the woman's pert face.

Irene licked her lips. "Very straight to the point," she said batting her eyelids at him before turning and walking out of the cafe. "I like it Mr Holmes, but yes there is a reason I asked you to meet me here to today."

She turned her head back towards the detective, gesturing for him to follow her. "Walk with me. There is much I need to tell you."

* * *

Everyone was out.

Even Toby.

Mid-day Mrs Hudson had popped upstairs asking if she could take the pup out for a well deserved walk.

John was at the surgery.

And Sherlock- well Rebecca didn't care where _he_ was.

Even thinking about him made her blood boil.

Now the young lawyer was sat in the living room, case papers littered in front of her and yet she could not focus. Not for the life of her.

Everything seemed to be a huge blur.

All elements of her life just swimming past her with great speed...and her unable to stop it.

With a huge groan the young lawyer slumped down onto the table, head in hands.

* * *

Sherlock and Irene walked up the blustery street as flakes of snow drifted past them.

Anyone who would have seen them probably would have assumed them a couple.

They looked right together.

They fit.

The tailoring of their dark coats, their pale skin, their calculating demeanours.

"So Miss Alder, you have not yet told me what you do," said Sherlock after a long silence. "You said that you think like me, so how do you put this to good use?"

Irene didn't glance up at him, merely allowing a soft smile to linger at her lips.

"I don't," she said with a shrug. "I use it for my own benefit. No one else's. Why should I?"

Sherlock looked over at her. Agreeing full well with what the woman had to say.

"But you Mr Holmes. A consulting detective," she said in what was almost a whisper. "You use your skills of deduction to help people. People like Miss Francis..."

Sherlock gulped at the mere sound of Rebecca's name.

"...though people like her will never appreciate what you have," continued Irene with a smirk.

"Oh yes," said Sherlock coming to a halt, his brow furrowed. "And who would?"

Sherlock stopped in her tracks momentarily, glancing at Sherlock over her shoulder. "Well...me of course," she said in a seductive tone, batting her eyelids at him. "Come on. There's something I need to show you."

The woman turned on her heel and continued to march down the chilly street.

Letting his intrigue get the better of him, Sherlock reluctantly followed.

It was the best part of five minutes before Irene finally stopped in her tracks on the corner of a long street.

Sherlock frowned as he gazed around the almost empty road.

Across the street stood a boarded Pavilion theatre, but that was not where Irene was looking.

"Here," she said in a dark voice, pointing up at a large block of executive-looking flats. "I believe this is where the elusive Moriarty began his operations for his attack on Miss Francis."

"But why?" said Sherlock seriously. "Rebecca isn't part of that world."

"Ah yes," said Irene stepping towards the pouting detective. "But she has had dealings with you. Perhaps this was Moriarty's test. To see how..._involved _...you are with her."

Sherlock scowled, clenching his gloved fists. "Rebecca and I," he said in a low voice. "Are not involved in any way."

"No?" said Irene, biting her lip. "Then where do your loyalties lie exactly?"

Sherlock frowned at the ever advancing seductress. "I have no loyalties," he said darkly, turning on his heel and making for the door to the block of flats as Irene grinned behind him.

* * *

The sky had begun to darken when John finally returned home to 221b, to find Rebecca stood in the kitchen boiling the kettle.

"Hello," said John nervously, rubbing his cold hands together.

Rebecca slowly turned around, flashing John a weak smile.

"Everything...um...okay?" he asked scratching his face with his hand.

But it was a moment before Rebecca replied.

"You heard us last night then?" she said quietly, pouring boiling water from the kettle.

John gave an embarrassed cough. "Uh...yeah...sorry...could help it..."

Rebecca shook her head. "Sorry we woke you," she uttered with a sniff.

John tried to catch a glance at the young lawyers face, but she turned her back to him.

"You know that he doesn't mean it right? Sherlock," said John gently. "It's just his way..."

Rebecca gave a soft nod.

"He cares for you..." said John honestly stepping forwards. "He just doesn't know how to show it."

For the first time, Rebecca turned around, her eyes tired and red.

"He just needs time," said John pulling the young lawyer into a warm hug. "Time to admit it to himself."

Rebecca nodded, pressing her face into John's jacket, willing herself not to cry.

After a few moments the pair pulled away.

"Thanks John," said Rebecca with a soft smile. "Do want some tea?"

John bit his lip. "Sorry," he muttered. "Taking Sarah out for a meal, just called in to drop off my briefcase."

Rebecca grinned as John made his way out of the room.

"Well have a good night," she called after him.

The doctor smiled. "I will. Don't wait up."

* * *

30 minutes later.

Sherlock exited the tall apartment complex, Irene at his heels.

Between them, they had gleaned all they could from the abandoned rooms and found nothing more than some dangerous chemicals and the remnants of some electrical items.

"Well at least now we know where Moriarty puts together his explosives," said Irene brushing dust from her Armani coat.

Sherlock frowned and glanced down at the small device held within his gloved palm.

"I need to go back to my flat," he said nonchalantly. "I need to see whether this bug is the same as the one left in 221b."

"I'll come with you," said Irene, pulling her collar up against the chilly wind.

Sherlock froze, his mind going straight to Rebecca and how she'd feel about having the woman she suspected of blowing up her house in the same vicinity as her.

But the detective's mind suddenly flitted back to what Rebecca had said last night.

The young lawyer seemed to despise him.

Any feelings he had for her were wrong. Unfounded.

She was his lawyer, he thought, Irene's words still ringing in his head.

They were certainly_ not _involved.

"Fine," said Sherlock coldly. "But afterwards I need to go to Barts morgue. See if we can attain any DNA matches from the equipment we found."

Irene gave a curt nod as Sherlock hailed a taxi.

"221b," he said to the driver as the slick black cab pulled up in front of them. "Baker Street."

He hopped into the back as Irene followed.

A large grin sliding its way onto her face.

* * *

**Crappy filler chapter I know, but please review.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Thanks so much for reviewing the last chapter guys. Really appreciate it.**

**Thanks to GracefullyClumsy, daftrosh, jem0jessie, Look-Me-Up, MyPartnerInCrime, almightyswot, Tracy137, ScreamsOnScreen, Gublerite13, starbrightnights, OhTex, TheDoctorsMistress, ILoveHLaurie, blod1tatws, Laudine, Vilentiel & izzie22 for leaving some lovely reviews.**

**Really hope you enjoy this chapter...**

* * *

Rebecca was stood in the kitchen, giving Toby his dinner.

Her conversation with John earlier on in the evening had made her feel much better. Perhaps Sherlock _was _just misunderstood, maybe he hadn't meant the things he'd said...

Letting out a long sigh, the young lawyer walked over to the bin, only to see John's wallet lying on the kitchen floor next to it.

He'd forgotten it.

Rebecca rolled her eyes.

She let out a chuckle as she picked it up, only to hear the front door slam downstairs.

Rebecca grinned as she swung around, brandishing the forgotten wallet.

"Forgotten something?" she called mockingly.

But her smile soon faltered as she realised it was not John standing in the living-room doorway, but Sherlock.

And someone else...

From behind the sheepish-looking detective stood a raven-haired woman, with cat-like eyes.

She was a little shorter than Rebecca but seemed to make much more of an impact than the lawyer herself.

The woman, dressed in a sleek black suit, looked dazzling in comparison to Rebecca's outfit of jeans, a shirt and boots.

Rebecca let out a gulp, her eyes suddenly flitting between Sherlock and the woman.

Not only did Rebecca note her stunning appearance, but her eyes managed to take in her heavily-painted, rouge lips.

She faltered, taking a step back as the woman grinned, realisation washing over her.

It looked as if Sherlock made to say something, but the dark-haired woman suddenly cut across him, stepping in front of the detective suddenly.

She held out a hand. "You must be Rebecca," said the woman, in an alluring voice, "I've heard a lot about you."

Rebecca tensed, not making any attempt to reach for the woman's taloned hand.

What did she mean by that?

She knew that if this was her house the woman would be out straight away, but it wasn't, the flat belonged to Sherlock and he was free to bring home whomever he wished.

Rebecca bit her lip, turning to Sherlock and gazing at him with pleading eyes, but the detective said nothing.

"Okay," said the woman elongating the word and retracting her hand. "My name is Irene. Irene Adler. I'm a _friend _of Sherlock's."

As she said the word 'friend', she gently reached up and stroked Sherlock's lapels with her pale hand.

Rebecca felt an angry fire bubble up inside her at this sight.

She glanced at the uncomfortable-looking detective.

"S-Sherlock," she said pleadingly, her voice braking slightly. "Can I have a word please? I-In private."

It was a long moment before the detective nodded ad followed Rebecca into the kitchen, shutting the sliding doors behind him, as Irene shot him a flirty wink.

* * *

John sat in the restaurant.

He had Sarah had had a brilliant meal and planned to finish off with a couple of drinks at a pub down the road.

John drained his wine glass as the bill was set down beside him.

"I'm willing to go Dutch," said Sarah pulling out her bag.

"No, no," said John firmly, grasping the painfully lengthy bill. "Let me. My treat."

Sarah blushed and muttered a thank you as John reached for his wallet.

Crap.

It wasn't there.

"Um," Sarah," said John quietly, wrinkling his nose slightly. "There might be a bit of a problem."

Sarah grinned, leaning back in her chair. "You've forgotten your wallet haven't you?"

John bit his lip. "It must be back at the flat..." he muttered. "Oh god, I hope I haven't lost it. I'd better give Sherlock a ring to check it's there."

And with that John lifted his phone to his ear.

* * *

"Who is she Sherlock?"

The detective remained stony-faced and didn't answer.

"Because if she's who I think she is... I mean, what is she even doing here?"

"I invited her," said the detective coldly.

"Why would you do that? You realise what she's done...to me."

"Yes...to _you_..." said the detective bitterly, eyeing Rebecca.

Rebecca stepped back. "W-What? And I don't matter to you at all?"

The detective didn't answer his eyes still boring into Rebecca's.

For a moment it looked as the he desperately wanted to say something, but the words never came...

"Answer me Sherlock," pleaded Rebecca with sad eyes.

The detective gazed back. "I can't-"

Tears welled at Rebecca's eyes, but she tore them away, not wanting to give Sherlock the satisfaction.

"Fine," she whispered, suddenly moving past the mute detective, snatching up a large holdall she had bought, that was hanging off the back of the door.

"What are you doing?" said Sherlock after a moment as he watched Rebecca stuff her freshly laundered clothes that lay in a pile on the kitchen table, into the oversized bag.

"Leaving," said the young lawyer, her voice beginning to break.

Sherlock watched her, his eyes widening.

Rebecca made her way around the table zipping up the holdall as she did so. As she reached the other side of the kitchen, she snatched up her handbag and moved over to the door leading out into the hall.

But before she could reach for the doorknob, Sherlock's slender hand grasped her wrist tightly.

"Don't," he whispered, as Rebecca turned to look at him.

Sorrow seemed to emanate from the dark-haired man's features. His eyes glistening.

Rebecca stared at him for a moment, as a tear poured down her cheek.

She shook her head, dug her free hand into her pocket and pulled out her key to the flat, handing it to him.

The detective gently let go of Rebecca's wrist and reluctantly took the token.

The young lawyer let out a difficult breath as yet another tear rolled carelessly down her cheek.

A silent moment passed before tentatively, Rebecca slowly reached up and cupped Sherlock's cheek with her hand.

He was cold to the touch but did not flinch away as her warm hand met with his skin.

He just stared back at her, his blue eyes glistening in the golden haze of the room.

Neither of them said anything as the moments passed them by.

Both merely staring into one another's shining eyes, Rebecca's thumb gently stroking Sherlock's bony cheek, before she lowered her hand back down to her side.

Instinctively Rebecca moved her body closer as Sherlock did the same.

Both just lost, confused, upset...

In the flickering kitchen lamplight the pair drew nearer and nearer.

Everything else in the world being blocked out.

Now it was just the two of them.

Nothing else existed.

Their breaths being the only sound they wanted to hear.

Another tear poured from Rebecca's cheek, landing on the lapels of Sherlock's jacket.

She glanced down as Sherlock bowed his own head, their faces only whispers apart.

Rebecca gazed up slowly as she felt Sherlock's warm breath on her cheek...

Their lips drawing nearer...

Suddenly there a loud ringing filled the room and Rebecca and Sherlock both jumped back, wide-eyed.

Sherlock gazed down and immediately extracted the ringing phone from his jacket pocket.

He lifted it to his ear, turning his back to Rebecca.

"John, this really isn't a good time..." said the detective.

But by the time he'd swung around, Rebecca had gone.

Left through the open kitchen door.

The only remainder of her left was the silver key, still clutched tightly in Sherlock's hand.

* * *

**Please review!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Thanks so much for all the reviews. I'm so glad you're all still enjoying the story.**

**Thanks to Ceville, WordsWrittenByHeart, Look-Me-Up, Lady-Gummy-Bears, My-Lover-Gren-Gren, Laudine, meggieleigh, ScreamsOnScreen, Gublerite13, Tracy137, ILoveHLaurie, xxkissesandcuddlesxx, PoisonLily, LiLiAnKa, insaneradio, OhTex, MyPartnerInCrime, TheDoctorsMistress, starbrightnights, blod1tatws, Trinity2001 and Vilentiel for reviewing!**

**Hope you all enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

Rebecca ran down the hallway stairs taking two steps at a time.

Her heart pounded furiously in her chest as tears began to well at her eyes.

What had just happened?

She and Sherlock had almost kissed. They had been so close...

Finally reaching the banister, Toby hot at her heels, she grasped the little dog's lead and clasped it to the collar at his neck.

"Come on boy," she said with a teary whisper, hauling open the front door and stepping out into the blustery evening air as wisps of snow swirled all around her.

She had no coat, no scarf, and no gloves.

But she knew that she had to leave.

Sherlock had brought..._that woman_...into the flat.

She thought that she could trust him.

But perhaps she had been wrong.

Not even knowing where she was going to go, Rebecca walked hurriedly down the darkening Baker Street, Toby walking silently at her side.

* * *

Sherlock let out a shuddering breath as John's voice rang out from the end of the line.

"Sherlock? Hello?" came the doctor's voice as Sherlock pressed the phone to his ear once again.

"What is it John?" asked Sherlock in a tired voice, rubbing his eyes with his fingers.

"Did I leave my wallet in the flat? In the kitchen? On the sofa?" asked John quickly, sounding as if he was in a public place.

Sherlock stared lazily around the untidy kitchen. The whole place seeming quieter without Rebecca present. It was a moment before he finally spotted the object lying on the kitchen table.

"Yes it's here," muttered the annoyed detective, with a sigh, hanging up the phone on his doctor friend.

* * *

Rebecca grasped at her shivering arms as she walked down the freezing cold pavement.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

She could go to her Aunt in Dorchester, but she hadn't spoken to her in years... Perhaps her parents...but could she really afford a flight to Australia?

With a heavy heart the young lawyer trudged on.

* * *

Sherlock re-entered the living room to find Irene Adler standing next to the roaring fireplace examining his skull.

"Ah," she said turning around to face him as he waltzed into the room. "Interesting specimen Mr Holmes."

The red taloned woman pointed at the skull as Sherlock took a seat.

Irene's eyes lingered on Sherlock's downcast face.

"Rebecca left has she?" said Irene glancing around boredly. "At least it gives us a bit of privacy."

She glanced down at Sherlock but the detective didn't even seem to be listening. His chin propped up on his fingertips.

Irene sniffed before taking a seat beside the sad detective.

"Listen," she muttered, suddenly grasping his hand within her own. "I wouldn't worry about Miss Francis and her feelings. She doesn't understand what it's like to have a mind like ours. To be constantly working and deducting. She can't be there for you...like I can."

With the last few words the raven-haired woman squeezed Sherlock's hand gently and his eyes suddenly met with hers for the first time.

"Together, Sherlock," said Irene batting her long eyelashes at the startled detective. "We could be magnificent. Just you and I against the world... Against Moriarty."

Sherlock didn't move, his eyes locked with Irene's.

"Together we could teach each other everything," she said moving closer. "The world will be our oyster. No one else will be important. Just us and the work. That is what you love most above anything else Sherlock, the work?"

The temptress cocked her head at Sherlock her face drawing nearer and nearer to his.

There was indeed a certain electricity between the pair.

A spark.

An in an instant, without Sherlock even realising what had happened, Irene had pressed her lips to his.

* * *

Sarah smiled up at John, shaking her head.

"I am so, so sorry Sarah," said the embarrassed doctor, shoving his hands in his pockets as they stepped out onto the blustery pavement.

"That's okay," said Sarah, with a fake sigh. "You're cute when you're apologetic."

John stopped in his tracks, a large grin appearing at his pink cheeks. "Cute?"

Sarah bit her lip, before nodding and lopping her arm with his. "Come on, let me buy you a drink."

John blinked. "Lead the way," he said as Sarah dragged him across the street to a warmly lit pub.

* * *

Sherlock's eyes widened and he pulled away suddenly.

Irene barely faltered, opening her eyes slowly to stare at the confused detective.

Sherlock didn't say a word, quickly getting to his feet and grasping his coat.

"Where are you going?" asked Irene calmly leaning back against the sofa cushions as Sherlock flung on his scarf.

"Barts," he muttered hurriedly, marching from the room as Irene followed.

Sherlock's heart pounded in his chest.

Stepping out onto the cold winter street he took in a gulp of air, filling his lungs.

With a quick flail of his arm he had hailed a black cab which pulled up in front of him as Irene shut the front door.

"You're in a hurry," said Irene with a calm smile, folding her arms across herself, as Sherlock stepped into the awaiting taxi.

He barely turned his head to register her, feeling more confused than he ever had been before.

Right at the moment in time he no longer knew what he wanted, he just knew he needed to go to Barts and quick.

With a flourish, Sherlock unceremoniously closed the door in Irene's face. But the raven-haired woman didn't seem to mind, merely smiling and giving him a quick wave as the cab pulled away.

* * *

John and Sarah sat at a quiet table across from the bar, drinks in hand.

"So how's living with Sherlock going?" asked Sarah fingering the stem of her wine glass gently.

John leaned back against the high seat, and sighed. "Yeah it's been okay, I can definitely say it's been easier having Rebecca around."

"Sherlock's lawyer right?" said Sarah frowning. "How's she doing since the explosion?"

John scratched his chin slowly, releasing a long breath. "I don't know, she has good days and bad days. I think she just needs someone...and well I've tried to be there...to be a shoulder for her to cry on...but...well...I don't think it's my shoulder she wants..."

Sarah narrowed her eyes, a smile appearing at her lips. "You mean Sherlock?"

John nodded, taking a sip of his beer.

"Does he feel the same?" asked Sarah leaning forwards, intrigued.

John glanced up, letting out a long sigh. "Who knows what Sherlock feels..."

* * *

Sherlock had been sat in the lab for almost an hour, the two microphone bugging devices in front of him.

But if he was honest with himself, the past 60 minutes of work had been a compete write off.

He couldn't concentrate.

The past evenings events spinning around in his head.

He realised what had almost happened between him and Rebecca.

And what had most certainly happened between him and Irene.

The raven-haired woman's words still ringing through his head.

Perhaps he and her _were_ right for each other. It was true that they could go far together.

Alone they were brilliant but together they could defeat anything that tried to hold them back.

But an image of Rebecca floated into Sherlock's mind and his heart began to pound furiously in his chest.

He couldn't deny it. He had feelings for her. Feelings for Rebecca Francis.

He might even go as far as to say that he lov-

Suddenly his phone vibrated in his jacket pocket making the detective jump slightly.

Grasping for it, he pressed his mobile to his ear, listening to voice message that had just appeared.

It was few moments before a difficult voice was heard.

"Sherlock," came the hurried voice of Irene Adler, sounding as if her feet were desperately pounding the pavement. "You need to come here quick. I'm back at the apartments and Moriarty...he's here. His men...they're everywhere...they've seen me...please I need you to..."

But suddenly the message ended.

Sherlock's eyes widened.

Irene was in trouble.

She had found Moriarty and now...well, who knows what might have happened to her.

Getting to his feet Sherlock suddenly flung on his coat and ran from the lab as fast as his feet could carry him.

* * *

John Watson and Sarah walked down the blustery street.

It was late and most of the pubs were closing.

"So back to mine for a nightcap?" asked John cheekily, biting his lip, glancing down at his fellow doctor.

Sarah linked arms with him and glanced up with a smile.

"Yeah why not?" she mumbled, huddling closer to the blonde man for warmth.

John Watson smiled knowing that nothing could ruin this perfect evening.

But it wasn't even a second later before a small figure appeared at the far end of the pavement running towards them. Faster and faster.

John squinted his eyes, stopping in his tracks as Sarah did the same.

"What the hell?" he muttered with a gasp.

He waited until the tiny figure was only feet away, before quickly crouching down, reaching out and grabbing them quickly around the middle.

John frowned as he took in the tiny form in his arms.

"Toby?"

* * *

**Please review.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Just to let you know this is my last but one chapter. We are so close to the end now. And thank you all so much for sticking with it. I'm thinking on doing a couple of sequels. I have a few ideas floating around which may be good. I hope you guys would like more?**

**But in the meantime I'd like to thank those who reviewed my last chapter: Susanna, ScreamsOnScreen, GracefullyClumsy, Ceville, MyPartnerInCrime, Tracy137, anon47, WordsWrittenByHeart, blod1tatws, OhTex, Laudine, whatwouldsherlockdo, bad2wolf2mcgee, insaneradio, ILoveHLaurie, LiLiAnKa, wtldr, Rhea Bleu & TheDoctorsMistress.**

**Enjoy the last but one chapter of Laws of Familiarity.**

* * *

Sherlock hopped out of the cab as it pulled up outside the apartments just off Cleveland Street.

He glanced up and down the street but there was no one to be seen.

The street was deserted.

What had happened here?

Sherlock ran up to the fenced gates surrounding the large tower block, as the cab pulled off behind him.

He gave them a tug. They were locked.

He could easily get in, he was Sherlock Holmes, but the whole place looked empty. Perhaps it was pointless.

Had Irene just led him into a wild and pointless goose-chase?

Giving low growl, Sherlock furiously kicked at the fence in frustration, but his anger was soon cut short as loud vaudeville style music filled the empty street.

The detective swung around, his eyes coming to rest upon the large boarded up Pavilion Theatre across the road, where a low tune was floating from.

Letting his intrigue get the better of him, Sherlock marched off towards the gigantic building.

* * *

John hoisted open the door to 221b, his mobile pressed to his ear.

"Come on Rebecca pick up," he muttered under his breath.

"Why don't you try Sherlock?" said Sarah, catching up with him, the shivering Toby held tightly in her arms. "Maybe he's with her or at least knows where she is?"

John nodded and dialled Sherlock number quickly as he called for their landlady. "Mrs Hudson!"

As the dial tone rang out, the tiny form of Mrs Hudson appeared around the banister.

"John is everything okay?" asked the woman with a worried look.

John tugged the phone from his ear and swung around to stare at the old woman.

"It's Rebecca. We found Toby out on his own, his leash still attached," he said gesturing to the little dog. "Is Sherlock in? Is he with her?"

Mrs Hudson clutched at her chest. "I don't know dears. I saw Sherlock leaving with a woman just over an hour ago. Black hair, too much make-up."

John looked from Mrs Hudson to Sarah.

"And there was no sign of Rebecca?" he asked the old woman breathlessly.

Mrs Hudson shook her head. "I heard the front door shut a little while before that. It could have been Rebecca leaving I suppose?"

John bit his lip, rubbing his face with his hand as worry overwhelmed him.

"I'm going to try Sherlock again," he said grabbing his phone and raising in to his ear. "He must know something!"

* * *

Sherlock crept around the corner just inside the entrance of the old Pavilion Theatre, as the music grew louder and louder.

His sight was suddenly drawn to the empty theatre space, where hundreds of red seats lined the floor before him. Up at the far end of the huge room was a dark wood-stained stage area, but through the gloom it was barely visible.

Creeping silently down the steps, Sherlock gazed around searching for the source of the noise, but the air itself seemed to be filled with the strange piano music.

The detective's heart pounded.

Something wasn't right here.

His phone suddenly beeped loudly in his pocket, shaking the quiet detective.

If there was someone here they most certainly knew they weren't alone now.

Quickly plucking the mobile from his pocket, Sherlock glanced down at the screen.

It was John.

Sherlock tried his best not to roll his eyes.

He was just about to ignore the ringing call when a loud voice suddenly rang out throughout the echoey room.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" came a simpering male voice, causing Sherlock to duck quickly into an aisle and gaze around searching for the source.

"What's the matter Sherlock?" continued the voice, as the detective righted himself. "Scared?"

Sherlock gritted his teeth, his eyes travelling up towards the projection room above the back of the room, to where a figure was silhouetted in the low light.

"Not at all," sniffed the detective, circling around the seating area in an attempt to get to the back of the room so that he could find the projection box and consequently the owner of the voice.

But his movement's seemed to be quickly spotted.

"Ah ah ahh Sherlock. You naughty boy," said the voice quickly. "You don't think I'm going to let you get away that easily do you? Not when we have lots of fun awaiting us."

Sherlock growled under his breath. "Moriarty I presume?"

The voice suddenly let out a cold, chilling laugh. "Spot on Mr Holmes. It's nice to meet you at last."

Sherlock grimaced. "Well I would exactly call this a meeting. Why don't you come down here and face me like a man."

The voice laughed again. "Well I would, but I think it might get in the way of more pressing matters."

Sherlock scoffed, circling back around the aisle. "And they would be?"

"Well the life and death of Ms Irene Adler perhaps?" shrieked the voice.

Suddenly a large spotlight hit the left side of the stage illuminating a figure tied to a chair with a purple strip of C4 strapped to her chest.

Irene.

* * *

John stood in the flat wringing his hands.

Rebecca wasn't picking up and neither was Sherlock.

John was worried.

It was very like Sherlock to rush off at the drop of a hat but not Rebecca...

She would never have just abandoned Toby.

She cared too much about the little dog for that.

The doctor jumped as Sarah placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder.

He swung around to face her.

"You're really worried aren't you?" she muttered concernedly.

John sighed. "It's not like her to just run off like that," he muttered rubbing his eyes with his hand.

Sarah pulled the blonde man into a warm hug. "Don't worry, perhaps she's with Sherlock. He'll make sure nothing happens to her..."

* * *

Sherlock's eyes widened as he took in the petrified form of Irene Adler, tied to a chair, a gag in her mouth and a hefty amount of explosive strapped to her.

Sherlock made to run towards her but suddenly a tiny red dot appeared upon the raven-haired woman's head.

"I wouldn't do that if were you," came Moriarty's eerie voice. "One wrong move Sherlock, and that might be the last you'll see of Ms Adler."

Sherlock gulped and backed off, knowing that this man Moriarty was serious.

"Untie her," yelled Sherlock angrily spinning around on the spot.

He tried to gaze up at the projection room, searching for Moriarty's silhouette once again, but as he did so, a bright spotlight was placed upon him, blinding his vision.

The Detective raised a hand in an attempt to shield his eyes. "Why are you doing this?" he shouted, as his phone began to ring once more.

"You know, you really should answer that Sherlock," said Moriarty. "It might be important."

Sherlock ignored it, instead gazing back towards Irene.

"It's me you want Moriarty," he said valiantly. "Let her go and take me instead."

There was a moment before Moriarty's chilling laugh filled the empty theatre. "But where's the fun in that?" he cried. "I want to find out where your loyalties lie Sherlock. Find out what's really important to you."

Sherlock grimaced. "I have no loyalties," he growled.

"No?" said Moriarty innocently. "Well then you wouldn't mind if I ended Ms Adler's life right now then would you?"

Two more red dots suddenly appeared on Irene's temples as he said this.

Sherlock gulped, he wanted to argue this point, but knew that he didn't have much of a choice.

"Leave her," he muttered after a moment, his teeth gritted.

"Ooooh," came the bodiless voice once again. "You do have loyalties then Mr Holmes. Does she intrigue you?...Ms Irene Adler?...Does she get your pulse racing?"

Moriarty cackled mockingly. "Or is there someone else?"

Sherlock suddenly stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat.

"A certain lawyer perhaps?" continued Moriarty.

Sherlock suddenly paled, his heart pounding between his ribs.

"So Sherlock Holmes," continued the voice. "Where does your heart really lie? With your work and Ms Adler or perhaps with someone else?"

Sherlock didn't answer.

He didn't even know what to say?

What was the truth?

Where _did _his heart lie? Even _he_ wasn't so sure.

"Cant make up your mind?" shouted Moriarty loudly. "Well perhaps this will help..."

There was beat before a second spotlight suddenly hit the right hand side of the stage illuminating a second figure.

Sherlock's eyes widened and his heart seemed to skip a beat as his eyes came to rest on the trembling person before him.

She was in a chair identical to Irene, long caramel hair flowing down her head, gag in mouth and tears in eyes. But Sherlock could not bear to let his gaze linger on the C4 strapped to her chest.

Not her. Not...

"Rebecca..."

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**Oooooh one more chapter to go.**

**Please review!**


	27. Chapter 27

**Oh my. It's the last ever chapter of Laws of Familiarity. But I'm hoping to write a couple of sequels...**

**Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter: Colours Doyle, GracefullyClumsy, fruitcakegirl, JinxRomance, WordsWrittenByHeart, Faith Rivens, OhTex, Ceville, daftrosh, MyPartnerInCrime, synethesiac, ILoveHLaurie, ScreamsOnScreen, starbrightnights, insaneradio, Tracy137, Look-Me-Up, rawr52, almightyswot, blod1tatws, Trinity2001, wtldr, glee lover, LiLiAnKa, TheDoctorsMistress, lizzie, bad2wolf2mcgee & Vilentiel.**

**Hope you like this. Be sure to leave me one last review. Thanks so much to you all for reading.**

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Sherlock gazed into the tear-stained face of his lawyer, taking in every scratch, every imperfection on her face that had been caused by Moriarty.

A mix of fear and impenetrable anger bubbled up inside him at the sight.

They had Rebecca.

The one person he wanted to keep safe above all others and he had let this happen to her.

"What's wrong Sherlock?" came Moriarty's sudden voice. "Weren't expecting to see Miss Francis?"

But Sherlock didn't say anything, his eyes locked onto Rebecca's as she blinked heavy tears from them.

He watched as her whole body trembled horribly, her head bowed low, only inches away from the bomb across her chest.

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a long breath before he finally spoke slowly and clearly.

"I'm warning you Moriarty. Let them go," muttered the detective dangerously, his teeth gritted.

The bodiless voice gave a chilling laugh. "I don't think so Sherlock. In fact I'm going to make things a little more interesting."

Sherlock swung around, and once again was blinded by the spotlight.

"I'm going to ask you to make a choice and you better choose carefully because the consequences," said Moriarty chuckling, "will be dire."

Sherlock's eyes suddenly turned back towards the stage and the two women.

"What choice?" yelled Sherlock loudly, his temper getting the best of him.

"Now, now Sherlock. If you'd just let me finish..." snapped the voice of Moriarty.

On stage Rebecca let out a muffled sob, causing Sherlock's face to pale suddenly.

"I want you to choose, Sherlock. Choose between these two women..." continued Moriarty. "And...that's not the best bit..."

Sherlock froze. He was a detective, he knew exactly what was coming.

"Whichever woman you choose the other will die." Finished Moriarty crisply. "I will literally snuff the life out of them. So who's it to be?"

Sherlock visibly trembled gazing at the two women before him.

Firstly there was Irene. The woman he barely knew yet someone who intrigued him so much.

Or Rebecca. His lawyer. He knew how he felt about her but was it worth it? He was married to his work...was this what he really wanted.

"Don't do this," uttered Sherlock darkly, pleading with the women's captor.

"Now now Sherlock, time's ticking. Which one is it to be?" said Moriarty in a melodic fashion. "Ms Adler. The woman who is just like you. The woman you could learn so much from. Or will you take the boring option, Little Miss Francis. Together you could get married, perhaps pop out a couple of children, live a normal life...but is that what you really want Sherlock? Normality?"

Sherlock breathed heavily staring first at Irene who sat unblinking and rigid, thoroughly calm and collected. Just as he, himself would handle the situation. Then at Rebecca whose face was stained with tears.

"Come come Sherlock, I'm getting bored of waiting. What's your decision going to be?" came Moriarty's voice sounding irritable.

Sherlock paced around the floor just in front of the stage his mind whirring, as he did so several tiny red dots appeared on each other woman, hovering over their chests and temples.

"Not going to answer?" shouted Moriarty. "Fine. Then I'm going to give you exactly a minute to make up your mind. If you don't...both women will die here tonight."

Sherlock's heart pounded. He was torn.

Torn between his head and his heart.

Staring from one to another, the second hand on his watch the only sound that seemed to fill the room.

Forty seconds left.

Sherlock slowly marched his way up the steps, leading to the stage.

Thirty seconds left.

He came to stand several metres in front of the two women.

Twenty seconds left.

He stared at them, their lives hanging in the balance, and his choice being the only determining factor.

Ten seconds left.

His eyes swept from one to the other.

Irene or Rebecca?

Irene was staring straight at him, her eyes as clear as glass, penetrating his soul.

But Rebecca, her head was bowed, her eyes in her lap.

Three.

He heard her let out a difficult breath.

Two.

He saw a tear drop from her cheek.

One.

He saw her shake her weary head, as if already assigning herself to death.

In that single moment Sherlock had made his decision and with a quick movement, Sherlock had run to Rebecca and tugged the C4 from her chest and flung it to the floor.

* * *

Rebecca gasped and glanced up, her eyes coming to rest on Sherlock Holmes' pale face, his eyes wide and fearful.

The detective crouched in front of her and removed the gag from her mouth.

"Sherlock?" she asked trembling, as if disbelieving of his presence.

He had chosen her.

With sad eyes she searched his face looking for an explanation.

Sherlock's hand lingered on her tear-stained face for a moment before he quickly moved around and began untying her bonds.

"Ahhhh I see you've decided to go for the boring option Sherlock," said Moriarty in a mocking voice. "Pity. Wasn't Ms Adler good enough for you? You're just going to let her die?"

"Moriarty you don't have to do this," said Sherlock warningly shaking his head.

"Oh yes I do," said Moriarty suddenly. "Say goodbye to MS Adler."

Sherlock suddenly moved over to Rebecca, as if to shield her from the explosion but it never came.

The only sound that was heard a moment later was the slow cackling laughter coming from Moriarty and from someone else...

Sherlock glanced up and over at Irene who had got to her feet, her hands unbound.

Sherlock's eyes widened.

"Oh didn't Irene tell you," came Moriarty's sickening voice. "She's been working for me all along. In fact she was the one who put this whole thing together. The explosion at Miss Francis's house, her kidnap..."

Sherlock's face formed into a deep scowl and he turned to Irene fully.

"Why did you do this?" he said coldly, directing his words solely at her.

But it was Moriarty who answered.

"Because I wanted to test your loyalties Sherlock," said the evil man. "You're clever, almost _too_ clever for me to get to. _Almost._ But now we now we can get to you through her. Your beloved Rebecca. The woman you love. And you _do_ love her Sherlock. Don't even try to deny it."

Sherlock stared down at Rebecca, who was trembling in her seat as her eyes slowly met with his.

"I've been watching you Sherlock. For years. You might think that your love for Miss Francis has come along recently, but you're just lying to yourself," continued the bodiless voice of Moriarty. "All those lingering looks, all those snide remarks. You were like a little boy pulling the pigtails of the girl you fancy. You've loved her since the first day you met. And now you can't even try to pretend it's not true. You chose her Sherlock. You chose her over your work. Over the thing you claim to love most in the world. So it seems to world's greatest detective has a weakness. And I've just found it."

Moriarty let out an ear-deafening cackle and Irene smirked.

The raven haired woman slowly left the stage leaving Rebecca and Sherlock alone, neither able to deny what they had just heard.

"So unfortunately, we must say Au-Revoir Sherlock, it's been fun hasn't it?" said Moriarty after a moment. "But don't worry. We'll be sure to meet again sometime soon...One day Sherlock, I will burn the heart out of you...now that I know exactly where it lies...Ta Ta."

And with that the microphone was turned off.

Moriarty and Irene Adler had left the building.

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Rebecca's heart rate slowed as the voice of Moriarty diminished and the looming form of Sherlock Holmes came to a halt directly in front of her.

It was a moment before she realised that she could move her arms freely once again. Her bonds had been untied by the detective who now came to crouch before her.

Rebecca blinked the last of the tears from her eyelashes and gazed up into Sherlock's icy blue orbs. A look of worry seemed to pass across his face as he took into Rebecca's frightened features.

"It's okay," he whispered in a low voice after a moment, moving his cool hand up to cup her cheek softly.

Rebecca gave one last choked sob before giving a gentle nod, as Sherlock's thumb wiped away the tears that still lingered on her cheek.

Rebecca shuddered at his touch and allowed his other arm to slip around the small of her back lifting her from her seat.

He gently pulled her towards him as she sniffed into his warm coat, his embrace comforting her.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered sadly, shaking her head. "If it wasn't for me Moriarty wouldn't have gotten away."

Sherlock let out a lengthy sigh. "I think Mr Moriarty is clever enough not to have been caught. This time at least," he muttered, pulling the young lawyer's body closer to his.

Rebecca bit her lip, before letting the following words slip from her mouth.

"Thank you Sherlock," she whispered.

The detective said nothing, merely tucking Rebecca's head under his chin and closing his eyes for a moment.

"We should go," he said after a long minute. "Before Moriarty changes his mind."

Rebecca let out a small nod and allowed Sherlock to lead her slowly by the hand, out of the theatre and onto the empty street.

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Thirty minutes later the pair arrived home to 221b.

And for them it was home.

For Sherlock.

And now for Rebecca.

Both of them knew this.

And both of them were happy.

As they climbed the stairs in silence, Rebecca's fingers remained tightly entwined between Sherlock's slender ones.

The couple walked quietly into the living room to find John and Sarah both asleep on the couch. The blonde woman curled up underneath John's arm.

Sherlock placed a hand to the small of Rebecca's back and ushered her gently through to the kitchen.

But before they could move, a soft rustling could be heard from the sofa and in a moment John's eyes were open.

"What the hell happened to you two?" he asked in a hushed whisper, staring down Rebecca and Sherlock.

But the surly detective shook his head. "We'll discuss it in the morning John," he said firmly, before opening the door to his bedroom and holding it open for Rebecca.

The awoken doctor merely shook his head incredulously. Only Sherlock Holmes could get him that agitated and yet that calmed in a single sentence.

He slowly closed his eyes and settled back down beside Sarah, glad that his two friends were safe again.

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Rebecca slumped heavily down onto the large comfortable bed as Sherlock lingered by the door.

She was exhausted, every inch of her ached and the foreboding sense that the whole experience wasn't quite over yet, still lingered in her mind.

The evening's events swirled in her mind. She had been kidnapped, close to death and yet Sherlock had been there for her. At the end of all this.

She glanced up at the dark haired detective as he gazed back at her solemnly.

"Is there anything you need?" he uttered quietly, a small amount of what seemed like shyness passing across his tall form.

Rebecca shook her head, holding back the sudden urge to say _him_.

Sherlock looked back at her uncomfortably as the young girl shuffled across the bed to make room for him to sit down.

The awkward detective took the hint and came to rest beside her.

Their bodies were close, their hands brushing against one another's.

It was a moment before Rebecca mustered up the last of her courage and entwined her hand with his once again.

At her touch Sherlock gazed up at her, his large blue eyes piercing into her soul.

Rebecca let out a shuddering breath.

There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much she wanted to thank him for. But all the words in the universe didn't seem appropriate.

But one thing did...

Slowly and tentatively, Rebecca reached up, allowing her lips to meet gently with his.

The detective seemed to respond immediately, his cold hand snaking around Rebecca's waist and his lips moving slowly against hers.

It was a moment before the couple pulled away and the young lawyer gazed down once again at their entwined hands.

"Stay with me," she whispered.

And for once Sherlock Holmes did as he was told...

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**I just want to say a great big thank you to everyone who read & reviewed this story. You're all amazing and I love you all. This story would be nothing without your support.**

**Please look out for the sequels...**

**Please review one last time...pretty please!  
**

**Love you all. Big smooches.**

**Kirsty xox**


	28. Sequel

**Sorry, I know that this fic has ended but just wanted to let you know, the sequel- The Laws of Love, Life and Friendship is now up. Find the link in my profile.  
**

**Again, thanks so much to everyone who has read this fic and is up for reading more about Sherlock and Rebecca's lives.**

**Love you all**

**Kirsty xox**


	29. sEQUEL 2

**So sorry to keep spamming all of your lovely inboxes with alerts but I just wanted to let you all know that the second sequel to 'The Laws of Familiarity' is up.**

**It is entitled 'The Laws of Family' and is set four years in the future where Rebecca is still residing in 221b with Sherlock.**

**This fic is an ongoing story unlike the first sequel and will contain much of the drama and suspense that the first one did.**

**I have not given up on 'Love, Life and Friendship' but am finding it difficult to keep Sherlock in character and would prefer and on-going story rather than one-shots.  
**

**I hope you will all forgive me for spamming up your email and give it a chance.**

**Again thanks so much to all of you who have previously read or reviewed either of my Sherlock/Rebecca fics. I love you all.**

**The new Sherlock/Rebecca fic can be found on my page. Enjoy!  
**


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